


It's A Delightful Life

by fangirl_squee, madelinestarr



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, F/M, It's a Wonderful Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinestarr/pseuds/madelinestarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sadie Doyle finds herself transported to a world where she had never been born. Everything is terrible, obviously, and it proves difficult to set right, especially as Frank is nowhere to be found. (It's a Wonderful Life au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~~cowritten by the amazingly talented madelinestarr on Twitter, without whom this fic would never have even been started~~
> 
> In the lead up to Christmas of 2014, Maddie sent me an idea she had for a Wonderful Life au. I really only meant to add to her dot points ... and then a week later I was back, writing an Actual Fic of this. And so began The Fic.
> 
> Huge thanks to Kitty, who has just been nothing but supportive through literal MONTHS snaps/tweets/messages about this fic (I hope you find it sufficiently devastating), and to Sophie, our amazing beta, who worked tirelessly on this while costuming multiple productions.

Sadie blinked up at the unfamiliar ceiling. Her head hurt terribly, making it difficult to think. She sat up slowly, taking in her surroundings - she was in an empty apartment, dust cloths draped over a few lonely pieces of furniture.

 

She frowned. The last thing she remembered was being in her own apartment. She and Frank had been just about to head out for dinner when there’d been a knock at the door. It had been some witch or other, telling them she’d come for her revenge or somesuch nonsense. To be perfectly honest it wasn’t that much of an unusual occurrence, so she hadn’t been paying much attention. Frank had refilled her flask, and had gone into the other room to get his, when the witch had yelled something loud, and everything had gone white.

 

Sadie picked herself up and brushed the dust off her dress. Apparently the witch’s great revenge had been to dirty her outfit. Well, Sadie certainly have her points for originality, but this was all rather bothersome. Now they would probably miss their dinner reservations.

 

Sadie wondered where Frank was - perhaps still back at the apartment. That would certainly be where he would head to if he had be transported elsewhere as she had been. In any case, he would probably be dreadfully worried, he did fret so when they were separated, the darling man.

 

She collected her scattered belongings - she’d been holding her purse and the flask and they seemed to have made the trip with her. She took a sip, secured the flask back onto her thigh holster, and headed outside.

 

The door opened onto a busy street, people not sparing her a second glance as they hurried past. Sadie looked up at the buildings, orienting herself. The witch had apparently only sent her a few blocks away. She could stop in at one of her favourite bars on the way past and call in to the apartment, just in case Frank was there.

 

She pushed open the familiar door, nodding a greeting to Daniel, the piano man. Strangely, he did not begin playing her song as he usually did, nor was the bartender mixing her usual martini.

 

“How are things tonight Mr Alexander?” said Sadie.

 

The bartender gave her an odd look. “Quiet, but it’ll pick up ma’am.”

 

“ _Ma’am_? Come now Mr Alexander, there’s no need to be so formal. After all. Frank and I have been coming to this establishment for years.”

 

“If you say so ma’am. What can I get you?”

 

“Could I use your telephone for a moment?”

 

“Sorry ma’am, it’s for paying customers only,” said Mr Alexander, “it’s the bar’s policy.”

 

Sadie opened her purse, annoyed. “I’ll have my usual martini. Now may I use your telephone?”

 

“Of course, ma’am.”

 

The phone rang and rang but there was no answer. Sadie sat and finished her drink. Not to worry. Frank had probably just been displaced, as she had been. She would finish this drink and then go back to the apartment and meet him there.

 

She looked over at Mr Alexander. Before she left, she was going to sort out this little mystery. She waved him over.

 

“Another drink ma’am?”

 

“Mr Alexander, what _has_ gotten into you?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”

 

“That’s it exactly, all of this ma’am business, as if you do not know who I am!”

 

“And who are you exactly? Ma’am.”

 

“Sadie Doyle, of course, of the Park Avenue Doyles,” said Sadie.

 

If Mr Alexander recognised the name, he didn’t react.

 

“Oh, stop being so ridiculous,” said Sadie. It had been a trying afternoon, and she was in no mood for parlour games. “I have been coming to this bar since before I was married, Lucy and I used to come here all the time.”

 

“Lucy …?” prompted Mr Alexander.

 

“Why, Lucy Parker of course. Don’t tell me that you don’t remember her!”

 

“I do remember her,” admitted Mr Alexander, “But she hasn’t been out in town for years."

 

Sadie frowned. What a ridiculous idea, Lucy was always out and about somewhere. Perhaps she didn’t favour the city as much as Sadie did, but she was always flitting about, dropping by to visit on her way to some sporting match or countryside weekend.

 

“Whatever do you mean?”

 

“Well, I understand her parents have kept her on a much shorter leash, since that big scandal a while back.”

 

“To what scandal are you referring?”

 

Mr Alexander shifted awkwardly, looking over his shoulder. “Since she was,” he lowered his voice, “caught in a compromising position with the mayor’s wife.”

 

“You must be mistaken, darling,” said Sadie, “such a thing never occurred.”

 

It had come very close though. She and Lucy had developed a system in their younger days for helping each other to stay out of the papers, mainly to stop their mother calling them in hysterics. It was a very simple one - if they were about to disappear from a social event with another person (or persons, as the case sometimes was), they would let the other know. The person continuing on at the event would keep a close eye on the press and anybody else who was asking too many questions about the other’s whereabouts.

 

Sadie remembered running quite a lot of interference over time Lucy had spent with the mayor’s wife. There had been some close calls, certainly - she remembered a particular instance where the two of them had almost been discovered in the cloakroom before Sadie had “fallen” into a display of champagne glasses and distracted the mayor’s attention - but there had been nothing scandalous in the papers about it.

 

Mr Alexander continued to look at her very strangely. “If you say so, ma’am, I’m sure they have their own reasons. She is their only daughter after all.”

 

He had now moved past _ridiculous_ and into _frankly offensive._

 

“She is _not_ ,” said Sadie.

 

“Ma’am, I think you've had one too many. The Parkers only have one daughter.”

 

He seemed so matter-of-fact about it, and not at all like he was attempting to continue some awful joke. Sadie felt very ill.

 

“May I use your telephone again?”

 

Mr Alexander nodded, regarding her carefully.

 

Sadie tried the apartment line again, but there was still no answer. Sadie bit her lip. She was beginning to suspect there was something terribly wrong, even more so than missing dinner reservations or getting dirt on her dress.

 

If she couldn’t find Frank, she knew exactly the right person to help her track him down. Sadie slipped off her barstool and headed out into the evening air to go find Donna Henderson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie attempts to find Donna, only to find another drastic change.

She took a cab to the Henderson’s brownstone, relieved to see everything as it should be - the same cheery flowers in the windowboxes, the same brass nameplate on the letterbox, the same note on the door advising visitors to knock quietly so as to not wake Michelle from her nap.

 

Sadie did as the note advised, knocking twice on the door as gently as she could. After all, with Donna’s vampire senses she could easily pick up on the lightest of knocks. However, when the door opened a moment later, it was _not_ Donna.

 

A woman in a plain black day dress regarded Sadie suspiciously, keeping hold of the door with one hand. Judging by the chalk marks on her sleeves and the finger paint stains at knee-height, Sadie guessed she must be Michelle’s nanny.

 

The woman bared her fangs slightly. Sadie supposed this was meant to intimidate her, but having been close friends with a vampire for many years, Sadie was entirely unfazed.

 

“Can I help you?” said the woman.

 

“Yes. I’m looking for Donna, is she in?”

 

“She’s out on coven business,” said the woman, “if this is about any sort of duel or truel you’ll have to make an appointment to come back at a later date. Mrs Henderson is fully booked for the next few months.”

 

“I had no idea she was so busy,” said Sadie, “Do you know when she’ll be back today?”

 

The woman’s eyes narrow. “No, I don’t, and I’m not sure she’d be willing to take time away from her daughter to help some mortal with an errand.”

 

“ _Some mortal_? I’ll have you know that my husband and I have been friends with the Hendersons for _years_ , and I do not think that Donna or Dave would be too pleased to hear you speak to me in such a manner!”

 

“And _I_ do not think Mrs Henderson would be too pleased to hear _some mortal_ bandying about the name of her dead husband in order to get through the door!” snapped the woman.

 

Sadie almost took a step backwards in shock.

 

“Dead?” said Sadie, faintly.

 

“Yes, some years ago now,” said the woman, “maybe next time you try to con your way into a lady’s home you’ll check that her husband hasn’t been killed in a vampire-werewolf clash.”

 

The woman slammed the door shut in Sadie’s face.

 

Sadie stared at the closed door in front of her for a few moments stunned. Detective Dave Henderson, dead? And not just _dead_ , but dead for _years_? Well, that simply wasn’t right at all.

 

She began to walk back towards home, deep in thought.

 

Dave and Donna’s dating and early married life had, of course, been fraught with certain societal tensions, especially after her coven leader found out that her intended was a werewolf. There had even been some quite violent instances, why, Sadie remembered the Donna and Dave’s rehearsal dinner it had taken quite a while for her and Frank to talk everyone down from an all-out battle, and - oh.

 

_Oh_. Sadie thought she'd seen this in a movie before. Well, something like this. Sadie recalled _that_ particular man wishing he'd never been born, rather than being transported by a witch, but still, there were certain similarities. Lives altered by the removal of a particular person, that sort of thing. It would certainly fit with Mr Alexander’s surprise and Donna’s loss.

 

Well, if this _was_ the case, what on earth was she going to do about it? After all, the witch didn’t seem to be hovering around her like the man in the movie’s angel had. It wasn’t as though Sadie needed a lesson in how wonderful her life was - she was well aware of that fact. The best thing, Sadie thought, would be to perform a spell to counteract the one the witch had performed, but that would be difficult.After all, she’d need to know exactly which spell -

 

A boy bumped into her, jolting her out of her thoughts.

 

“Sorry ma’am!” said the boy, far too cheerful to properly sound sorry, “would ya like t’ come t’ a show? Special performance t’night!”

 

He pushed a flyer into her hand and sped off, shoving the papers at people as he went. Sadie smoothed out the handbill.

 

_ONE NIGHT ONLY,_ it read, _A SPECIAL PERFORMANCE by the one and only BOBO BRUBAKER! Come to this preview event and be AMAZED AND ASTOUNDED by his SUPERNATURAL ABILITIES! Listen with wonder as he tells you TALES FROM THE OTHER SIDE - GHOSTS, CURSES, MONSTERS, AND MORE!_

 

Underneath was an artists’ incredibly flattering impression of Bobo, fighting with a ghost, something Sadie hardly believed he had even done no matter what other changes had been made to the universe. She doubted he was any less of a fraud in this world than he had been in her own.

 

That being said, Bobo _did_ always have a knack for being adjacent to the genuine article when it came to the supernatural. It was entirely possible that he might have picked up some information on what to do in a situation such as the only she currently found herself in.

  
Sadie checked the time listed on the flyer - the show would be beginning soon. She hailed a cab, and sped off towards the theatre.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie visits Bobo Brubaker for help. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Sadie was surprised to see so many people lined up at the theatre, and she was even more surprised to find that the show had been sold out. A large poster at the front proclaimed that this show was mainly for “special and esteemed guests”, while the rest of his shows would be taking place at another venue.

She overheard several people talking excitedly about waiting after to show to try to secure a private reading as she looked for a way backstage, and strained to keep a straight face. Apparently this version of Bobo had been more successful in his fake seances.

She spotted a stagehand rushing backstage with a tray of drinks and quietly slipped in behind them. If she couldn’t see Bobo’s show, she could at least search his dressing room for hints as to how she might go about setting things right. She paused, looking around behind her to make sure that no one saw her before she entered.

The dressing room, like the theatre, was cramped. Bobo’s clothing was strewn about the room as though his suitcase had exploded, and the suitcase itself was lying upside-down and empty on the floor. In this instance, Sadie considered such a mess to be a plus - if she misplaced something during her investigation of the room, the chances of someone noticing were very low.

Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be anything to find. There were a few almost-authentic-looking artifacts and a couple of old books, but nothing even remotely to do with witches. Most of Bobo’s belongings seemed to consist of stage props - the kind one would use if one needed to host a “realistic” seance. Sadie was tempted to take them with her on principal.

She heard to sound of someone approaching, too close for her to leave without being seen. Sadie bit her lip, considering her options. If today continued on its theme, Bobo wouldn’t recognise her. This was a double-edged sword of sorts - he wouldn’t know her and therefore would not be in love with her, but _she_ knew _him_.

She checked her appearance in the mirror - she was still a little dusty, but with the cut of her dress Bobo would barely notice - and sat down in the chair, reclining as if she had been waiting for him in the most comfortable setting imaginable.

“Mr Brubaker,” said Sadie, as he opened the door.

Bobo blinked in surprise as he took in the sight of her from the doorway, mouth hanging open. He looked behind him to check that he wasn’t being watched, before stepping into the room and shutting the door.

“... uh, Hey. Hello.”

Sadie smiled, inclining her head slightly in greeting.

“Who are you? Uh, not that I’m complaining or anything,” he added hastily.

Sadie kept her smile fixed in place, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. Of course she had expected it, but she’d hoped, perhaps - she mentally shook herself.

She extended her hand, remaining in her seat. “My name is Sadie, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions, about the spirit world?”

Bobo took her hand, but seemed unsure of what to do with it. Inwardly, Sadie smiled. Their first interactions, so long ago now, had gone much the same way.

“Sure, I mean, I gotta go back onstage in a sec, but if you got questions, I got answers.”

It didn’t take Sadie long to realise that this version of Bobo knew just about as much as the version she was used to. This version of him was also apparently unused to the concept of personal space, slowly moving closer during her questioning until their legs were pressed together. Sadie took this as a sign that she should make her exit.

“Already?” said Bobo, as she began to make her excuses, “But I haven’t even looked into the great beyond for you yet.”

“And what would that entail, Mr Brubaker?”

“Well, I take your hand, like this,” he said, taking her hand in his, “and then I channel the, like, spiritual energies of this world and the next and, like, look into your future. Want to give it a go, babe?”

As he was still between herself and the exit, Sadie resigned herself to at least a few more minutes of ametuer theatrics.

“Of course, Mr Brubaker, that sounds positively _fascinating_.”

His expression was serious as he studied her hand, making thoughtful-sounding noises as he ran a finger over her palm. Sadie bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“The spirits are telling me you’re going through a really tough time right now,” he said, after a moment, “and what they’d like me to pass on is that, like, you’re gonna meet someone who’s gonna help you.”

“Oh, am I?” said Sadie, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“Yeah,” said Bobo, leaning over her, “and the spirits say that when you meet that dude, you should like, open yourself up to him, you know? So he can help you.”

Well, that was certainly a good cue for her to leave. Sadie extracted her hand from his with perhaps a touch more force than was strictly necessary.

“Thank you for the advice, Mr Brubaker,” said Sadie, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

She pushed back the chair to give herself room to move around Bobo to the exit.

“Babe, wait -”

Sadie shut the door behind her, cutting off whatever other message from the spirits that Bobo was trying to pass on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie runs into someone who can point her in the right direction.

It was almost comforting that Bobo was just as useless with the supernatural here as he was in her own universe. That said, it did leave her at somewhat of a loss. Sadie blew on her hands to warm them as she walked away from the small showhall. What she needed was something to get her started. Some person or object who could point her in the right direction for getting out of this awful reality she’d found herself in and back into her right one.

What she needed was a drink.

Up ahead was a neon bar sign. Two of the letters on the sign were out, flicking intermittently. Ordinarily Sadie would have avoided such a place, but as she hadn’t had a drink since she’d  arrived she would make an exception. After all, one simply couldn’t think on an empty liver.

The interior decor was just as shabby as the outside would suggest. Sadie wrinkled her nose slightly as she took a seat at the bar, hoping that the stool wouldn’t dirty her dress.

“What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey, I - why, PJ! What are you doing here?”

PJ blinked at her, frowning, and Sadie’s heart sank. Of course he didn’t know her either.

“Do we know each other ma’am?”

“Ye-es,” said Sadie, drawing the word out a little as she thought of a reason, “you helped me out with a supernatural mystery, oh, it must have been years ago now!”

PJ frowned. “Ah, yeah, what case would that have been again?”

“Oh, you know, ghosts causing problems, just a usual day of work for you, I’m sure.” Out of sight behind the bar, Sadie crossed her fingers for luck. “You worked with a gentleman named Frank Doyle, I believe? Does he work here too?”

“No,” said PJ, turning away to pour her drink, “he doesn’t.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

PJ slid her glass towards her. It grated a little on the sticky bar. “If you need supernatural help, I can point you to plenty of other names in the occult phone book, but that’s one name that’s not going to be there.”

“So what you’re saying is,” said Sadie, “he’s out of the supernatural detective game?”

“Yeah,” said PJ, “yeah he is. All the way out.”

“Surely even if he’s out of the game he can still give his advice on such matters?”

“You can ask him, but I don’t think he’s going to give you an answer.“

“Well I don’t know about that,” said Sadie, “I think you’ll find I can be fairly convincing.”

PJ watched Sadie curiously and she sipped her drink. “Lady, I really doubt it.”

Sadie ran her finger along the rim of the glass. “Why, is he …is he married?”

She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. With Frank removed from her equation she’d been with Basil, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that Frank would have found his happiness with someone else. Perhaps in this reality Catherine had lived, and the two of them were -

PJ spluttered, distracting her from her line of thought. Sadie thought he was choking on something before she realised he was laughing at her.

“Is that really such an absurd idea?” she asked, feeling more than a little insulted.

“Frank Doyle? Married?” said PJ, in between gasps, “I’ll say. If Frank were here he’d be laughing too.” PJ’s face went serious. “If Frank were here,” he repeated quietly to himself.

“Well, as we have previously established, Frank is not here, but I very much wish to contact him.” Sadie held up a hand, quieting PJ’s protests. “Now, I know that you’ve said that Mr Doyle won’t help me, and I fully understand that you are quite certain about it, but I would very much like to try for myself.”

“Ma’am, I really think -”

Sadie stood up off the bar stool, towering above PJ. “Mr Jones, if you do not tell me where I can find Frank Doyle _right this instant_ I will cause _such a fuss_ that the police will _shut down this establishment_ , and do not think for _one moment_ that I do not know how to do so.”

PJ held up both hands in surrender before reaching under the bar and scribbling down an address on a napkin. “This is where Frank is. But, ma’am, seriously now, I have to warn you -”

“Yes, yes, I am well aware of your warnings, Mr Jones.” Sadie drained the rest of her glass. “Good day.”

PJ clicked his tongue as Sadie walked out of the bar.

“Dames,” he muttered, “it doesn’t matter what line of work I get into, _dames_ are always trouble.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie makes an upsetting discovering regarding Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend having Rowan's doyles art open in another tab, for cheering up purposes: unikirin.tumblr.com/tagged/rowan-draws-the-doyles-for-30-days-probably

Sadie frowned at the address and she made her way down the street. It wasn’t anywhere she recognised, but then again, it was far, _far_ into the outer boroughs of New York City. She quickly hailed a taxi and gave the address to the driver.

Surely Frank wouldn’t be that hard to convince. No matter what changes had been made to the universe, he was still her Frank. Sadie watched the scenery slip by as she pondered Frank’s current occupation. If he wasn’t working within the supernatural community, then perhaps he had taken up bartending as PJ had done? She hoped his bar was nicer, although given the neighbourhood the cab was winding it’s way through, she doubted it.

“Here ya are, ma’am,” said the driver.

Sadie peered out the grimey cab window. A cemetery? Perhaps, thought Sadie, he’d gone back to work for the church. That would explain PJ’s insistence that Frank would refuse help - Frank had told her how strict Father Lancaster could be when it came to letting Frank accept jobs he didn’t agree with.

She squared her shoulders and walked through the gates. Never mind Father Lancaster, she thought, if she could find Frank, all would be well.

Two workmen were leaning on their shovels in front of the gatekeeper’s hut, smoking.

“Excuse me,” said Sadie, “could you gentlemen please point me in the direction of Frank Doyle?”

“Who?”

“ _Frank Doyle_. He’s supposed to be somewhere hereabouts?”

“Hang on,” said the taller of the workmen, going into the hut. He returned a moment later, holding a ledger. “This here says your man’s over at plot 809 ma’am, that’s past those trees over there.”

“Thank you,” said Sadie.

_Thank goodness_ , thought Sadie, _I’ll explain this to Frank and this will all be sorted in time for afternoon cocktails._

When she made her way around the trees however, there was no one there. Just a small sectioned off group of gravestones. She moved closer to read the plaque. It was a private site, paid for by a small church on the Lower East Side, for those who had died in service of the church.

Sadie suddenly felt as though she couldn’t breathe.

_Those who had died in the service of the church._

_“your man’s over at plot 809”_

_“if Frank were here”_

Numbly, Sadie looked over the headstones. In the corner, some of the ivy from the wall had begun to grow over the headstones. Sadie pulled it away, feeling relief every time she saw an unfamiliar name appear, until there was only one left. Her hands shook as she brushed away the dirt from the engraving.

Frank Doyle.

“No,” said Sadie, sinking to her knees, heedless of the way the damp earth soaked through her dress, “no, no, _no_. This is simply … you can’t _do_ this Frank, I told you - you _promised_ …”

Sadie didn’t know how long she knelt there in the dirt. After a while she noticed how _cold_ she felt, and how _dark_ it was. She rubbed a hand over her face - her eyes stung and her face felt wet. She looked around, taking in her surroundings again. It was so dark, she could barely read the engraving on the headstone in front of her in the moonlight.

She looked up. A full moon.

Frank always told her that all sorts of things were more powerful during a full moon, and so one should always avoid having a date night during that particular section of the lunar calendar. Sadie smiled, remembering Frank’s annoyance about it. Even though they would always try to sequester themselves, they always received calls during the full moon. Especially from ghosts, since their medium abilities were heightened as well. Why, during the last full moon, Frank had - he had -

Her vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears once again. She reached forward, fingers trailing over the letters on the headstone.

“Oh _Frank_. If only there was some way to bring you back to me. If only I - oh!” Sadie looked up at the moon again. “oh, but of course, there _is_ a way! How silly of me, Frankenstein!”

Sadie got up, brushing off her knees as best she could. “I’ll be right back, Frank darling, you -” Sadie took a shuddering breath, “you stay right here and I’ll see you again soon.”

Frank might be lost to the physical world, but his spirit would be out there somewhere, and woe betide any supernatural entity or mortal personage (or any of those who fell in-between) who got in her way tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie's reunion with Frank does not go as she'd hoped.

Gathering the supplies for summoning a spirit was relatively easy. All one really required was a certain amount of natural supernatural ability, a few candles, and determination. The natural ability and determination was something she already had in spades. She checked the gatekeepers house for candles. There were a few, different sizes, some almost burnt down to the wick. They would have to do - she didn’t have time to go searching for proper ritual candles before sunrise.

She arranged the candles in formation around Frank’s headstone, carefully lighting them. She was glad the night was so still. Sadie took a deep breath, closing her eyes and concentrating on Frank, calling him out of wherever it was he might have ended up.

_Please come back to me Frank._

The candles flickered.

There was a polite cough.

Sadie held her breath, and opened her eyes. Frank hovered behind the headstone, translucent and young-looking, but very much her darling Frank. She wave a relief wash over her.

“Frank!”

“I - yes, that’s me,” said Frank.

“Oh,” said Sadie, her relief fading, “oh, no, I suppose you wouldn’t know me.”

“Should I?” said Frank, “I’m not good with names or faces, so I suppose it’s entirely possible we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t,” said Sadie, “or rather, we have, but not here.”

“I see,” said Frank. After a pause he added, “Actually, no, I don’t.”

“I’m afraid it’s rather complicated,” said Sadie, “you might want to sit down, if that’s possible.”

“All right,” said Frank, giving her an odd look. He passed through the headstone to sit in front of her.

“My name is Sadie. I - “ Sadie hesitated.

Frank already seem skeptical, which _hurt_ in a way she hadn’t expected. If he had never known her, what was the likelihood of him believing that they were married? Frank disbelieving that they were man and wife, well. That wasn’t something she ever wanted to experience. Perhaps she could ease him into the thought later. Start with introducing the idea of other realities first, and then move on to the possibility of him having a different life. Yes, that would be the way to do it.

“This might sound rather unusual, but you’ll have to believe me when I assure you that it’s the absolute truth,” said Sadie, “I come from another world.”

Frank frowned. “I’m afraid aliens are out of my range of expertise.”

“No, not another world in that sense, more like a parallel,” said Sadie, “One moment I was in my apartment with - with my husband, arguing with a certain witch with whom we’ve had some unpleasant dealings, and then the next moment I was here, and nobody seems to know who I am, and my husband is -” Sadie broke off, looking down at the pile of ivy she’d torn from Frank’s headstone. “- my husband is _not_ here.”

There was a moment of silence as Frank considered things. “Say I take what you’ve told me as fact, why would you summon _me_ of all people? Not that I don’t appreciate the little vacation from hell, but surely there are other more alive people you could be calling on?”

Sadie looked up, shocked. “Hell?”

Frank smiled, but there was none of his usual humor in it. “Surely if you summoned me you were aware of there being an afterlife.”

“Well, yes, but you don’t belong in _hell_ darling,” said Sadie.

This time is was Frank’s turn to look away. “Yeah, well, I guess you _don’t_ know me then. I’m where I belong.”

“It’s my understanding that much of our location in the afterlife is at our own direction,” said Sadie, “so perhaps you are only there because you _believe_ that that is where you belong.”

“Sometimes belief and reality align perfectly,” said Frank.

He looked up at her, as though he was taking her in for the first time. Sadie wished she’d had the opportunity to tidy herself up first, she was sure she’d made a much better first impression on her Frank the first time.

“And you didn’t answer my question,” said Frank, “there are plenty of other mediums a lady such as yourself could call on I’m sure.”

“But none so highly reccomended,” said Sadie, “You - in my _proper_ world, my husband speaks quite highly of you.”

“And who would your husband be?” said Frank, suspiciously.

_You_ , thought Sadie, _it’s you, you ridiculous, wonderful, darling man. As though I could ever be married to anyone else._

Instead she said, “well, as we’re in the wrong world I don’t think you’re acquainted with one another.”

“So let me see if I’ve got this right” said Frank, “your husband, who doesn’t exist in this incorrect version of the world that you’ve found yourself in, told you that I’m some great supernatural expert, and that you should contact me in the event that this should happen?”

“Well, not in so many words,” said Sadie, “but he told me that you were someone upon whom I could always rely. I know that you will be able to help me, just as he would if he were here.”

“Are you sure that he’s _not_ here?” said Frank, “not to sound insensitive, but are you sure that your husband hasn’t just, uh, left of his own accord? Perhaps with someone else?”

“Oh no, any time he leaves with someone else I am _always_ present,” said Sadie.

“I see.”

It was difficult to tell, but Sadie thought she saw a flush across Frank’s ghostly cheek. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m just not sure how exactly I can even help you in this situation. I’m really more of an expert on exorcisms than curses.”

“Now Mr Doyle, there’s no need to be so modest. While exorcisms are certainly one of your strongest points, you picked up a thing or two while working with Pterodactyl Jones and Red Wolf Mendles. You can point me in the right direction at the very least,” said Sadie.

“I - how did you _know_ that?” said Frank.

“I told you,” said Sadie, patiently, “my husband is intimately acquainted with your work. I realise that perhaps you can’t be _quite_ as helpful as a living person, but I would really rather get assistance from someone that I can trust.”

“I see.” said Frank, “well I suppose I might still know of a couple people, or _beings_ I should say, who might be able to help. If they’re still around, that is. For obvious reason I’ve been out of the loop on such things.”

Sadie smiled. “Excellent, Mr Doyle! Well, I shall just tether you to something and then we two shall be off.”

“Wait, tether me to something?”

“Why yes,” said Sadie, “I imagine I’ll need your help once I make contact with whomever or whatever can help me, and I’m certainly not going to send you back to hell.”

“Oh,” said Frank.

“Now, I just need something… hmm.”

Sadie looked through her purse. Her lipstick, some money, chalk, a hand mirror - not really proper tethering objects. As much as she enjoyed that particular shade of lipstick, she needed something that she had a solid emotional connection to, or else Frank might simply float away back from whence he came. She shifted on the cold ground, feeling something dig into her thigh.

“Oh, of course! Perfect!” said Sadie.

She jumped up, pulling her dress up to get to her hip flask, which has been secured to her thigh via a rather inventive garter. Frank had given her the bronze flask for their wedding anniversary. She never left the house without it.

When she looked up, she saw that Frank had averted his gaze, looking very intently up at the tree branches.

“I can tether you to this flask,” said Sadie, straightening out her dress.

Frank frowned. “And if I were to say that I do not wish to be tethered?”

Sadie narrowed her eyes. “Then you would be making a very foolish bluff, Mr Doyle, as you are well aware that spirits do not have much say in the matter of tethering.”

“Once I’m tethered you might not be able to see or hear me,” said Frank.

“That,” said Sadie, drawing a few sigils on Frank’s headstone, “is only a problem for those without my abilities.”

Frank crossed his arms. “And what abilities would those be?”

Sadie paused, looking up at him with one eyebrow raised. “Why, I’m a medium of course, and quite an excellent one if I do say so myself. Now do be quiet for a moment, the next part requires a small amount of concentration.”

Frank opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, frowning at her. Sadie ignored that, focussing on the flask. She imagined the whisps that made up Frank tying themselves to her flask, wrapping around it again and again and again, so that the bond could not be broken.

The candles flickered again, then went out.

“There,” said Sadie, pleased, “I think that’s done it.”

“Yes, I suppose -

Frank broke off as Sadie lifted her dress to put the flask back into it’s hidden holster. She ducked her head to hide a grin. Perhaps this version of Frank was not so different from her own Frank after all.

“There,” said Sadie, “now tell me about your contacts.”

Frank’s contacts were a few fairies who’d gotten out of the wish game and set up themselves up in a bookstore instead. Red Wolf had used them as a contact a few times when they’d dealt with unfamiliar curses.

Unfortunately, as they reached the store during the very early hours of the morning, it was closed.

Frank slid his head and shoulders through the door. “I think they’ve gone out. We’ll just have to come back tomorrow.”

Sadie bit her lip. She had been rather hoping to get everything sorted out before retiring to her own bed with her own Frank. “I suppose we shall.”

She caught sight of her reflection in the grimy store window - she looked red-eyed and exhausted, and her dress was completely ruined beyond repair. Obviously a new dress would be in order as soon as the shops opened.

Sadie smothered a yawn. “I think perhaps we should retire for the night, darling.”

“There’s a place not far from here where I used to stay,” offered Frank.

Sadie wrinkled her nose. She remembered the place, simply awful. She had managed to drag Frank out of there for good after they’d gotten serious and there was absolutely no way that she would be responsible for bringing him back there no matter what form he was in.

“Not to worry, Mr Doyle, I have somewhere in mind.”

The doorman at the plaza hotel almost refused to let her in.

“Well, then I demand to see your manager,” said Sadie.

The doorman, wary of this strange woman, disappeared and returned a few minutes later with the night manager.

“Mr Hatcher, delightful to see you,” said Sadie, “I’m sorry not to have called ahead, but my plans changed at the last minute. If you have anything suitable available I’d be happy to pay you in advance for the inconvenience.”

Sadie was quite familiar with Mr Hatcher and his under the table payment policies (she and Frank had exploited them ruthlessly in the days of prohibition). She was quite confident that this would be sufficient to convince him to overlook her current appearance.

Sure enough, Mr Hatcher looked between her and the proffered money for only a short moment before taking it.

“I’m sure we can find something for you,” said Mr Hatcher, leading her over to the counter. His pen hovered above the ledger. “I’m terribly sorry, it must be the late hour… what name should I register you under?”

She couldn’t use ‘Parker’, after all, her family was too well known in that particular part of the city. Her family might not know her in this world, but Sadie certain didn’t want to be the source of a scandal for them, especially if Lucy was already having difficulties.

“Mrs Doyle,” said Sadie.

“ _What_?” said Frank, startled.

“And will Mr Doyle also be joining you this evening?” said Mr Hatcher.

“Yes, although he would protest you charging full rates for a ghost,” said Frank.

Sadie looked down. “No, I’m afraid he’s no longer with us.”

“Oh, my condolences ma’am,” said Mr Hatcher.

Sadie swallowed. “I - thank you.”

The doorman watched Sadie suspiciously as she took her room key and headed for the elevators. Sadie fumed about it as they rode up to her suite.

“The absolute nerve of that man! Almost refusing to let me through when I know he has _absolutely_ let through people far more unsavoury looking that I.”

The bellboy murmured something soothing, and she tipped him before getting off the elevator.

“You’re _still_ tipping him?” asked Frank.

“Well it’s not the bellboy’s fault that my most favourite residence continues to hire incompetent doormen,” said Sadie, as she unlocked the door “Although I suppose it is somewhat comforting to find consistencies with my own world.”

Frank looked around the plush hotel suite. “You live _here_?”

Sadie slipped off her shoes and headed for the bathroom. “Well, yes and no. My husband and I live in the penthouse, but is seems like somewhat of a waste in insist on it for just myself. I suppose we’ll just have to make do with this.”

She left the door ajar so that she could still hear him as she turned on the taps. She hung her dress up on the back of the door and looked it over as she stripped off her undergarments. There was always the possibility that it could be salvaged, although she would certainly have to acquire a new dress tomorrow.

She set the flask carefully next to the bath, keeping it within arm’s reach.

“Yes, you’re really suffering,” said Frank.

Sadie sighed as she slid into the bath. “Well, comparatively speaking. There’s barely even any liquor in here.”

She submerged herself for a moment, enjoying the feel of the hot water before returning the the surface.

“- in here.”

“What was that Mr Doyle?”

“I said there _is_ a liquor cabinet in here.” Frank’s voice sounded closer to the door.

Sadie hummed as she washed off the dirt from the graveyard. “Just the one I suppose?”

“And I suppose you have more than one in your penthouse apartment?”

Sadie sighed longingly. “Yes, and not just little ones either. A whole wall of it, and the walk-in cabinet of course.”

“A walk-in liquor cabinet?”

“Oh yes, that one was my husband’s idea, it’s just wonderful.” Sadie smiled. “A brilliant idea from a brilliant man.”

“Yes,” said Frank.

“Is something the matter, Mr Doyle?”

“I just - I suppose I’m just confused as to why you gave my surname at the desk instead of your brilliant husband’s,” said Frank.

“Oh, I … I needed a surname they wouldn’t recognise,” said Sadie.

“Yes,” said Frank, after a moment, “yes, I suppose the name Doyle would be quite unrecognisable to high society types.”

“Well, in this world, certainly,” said Sadie.

Frank snorted. “And I suppose in your world I’m mingling with high society all the time, and you’re going to tell me that _everyone_ knows the name Doyle?”

Sadie reached down and picked up the flask, tracing the inscription with her finger. _To my Sadie love, on our anniversary._

“Just the people who matter, Mr Doyle,” said Sadie.


	7. Chapter 7

Sadie wrapped the white fluffy robe around herself after her bath, slipping the flask into the pocket. She was glad the Plaza supplied them - she certainly couldn’t sleep in her dress. She hung the dress next to the door, and hoped that it wouldn’t wrinkle too much overnight.

Frank was unsuccessfully attempting to get the doors of the liquor cabinet to open. He seemed to have figured out the basic mechanics of interacting with the physical world, but had so far only managed to knock over one of the glasses and rattle the cabinet handle.

“Allow me, Mr Doyle.”

Frank looked up her, his eye widening as he took in her new attire.  She supposed the robe _did_ cover less than her gown, only coming down to her knees.

Sadie raised an eyebrow.  “Is there a _problem_ , Mr Doyle?”

“I - no,” said Frank.

“Good,” said Sadie, pouring them both drinks and pushing one over so that Frank could drink it’s ghostly form.

Frank blinked at the ghost glass. “Oh. Thank you.”

Sadie smiled. “Well, I have hosted ghosts before.”

Sadie sipped her drink in silence. Frank kept looking at her, and then quickly looking away, fiddling with his glass instead of drinking.

Sadie sighed, pouring herself a refill. “Despite your previous statement, is _does_ seem as if you _do_ have a problem, and I do wish you would share it with me.”

Frank took a long drink. He bit his lip, rolling the now-empty glass between his hands.

“I suppose I just - I feel as though your husband might take issue with my being here while you’re in your current state of dress. Or rather, your current state of _undress_.”

Sadie smiled. “As I’ve said before Mr Doyle, he trusts you.”

“And do you trust me?”

Sadie considered the spirit in front of her. So much like her own Frank had been when she met him. She had trusted him then too, even though it had taken him a little while to accept it.

“Why, of course.”

Frank’s shoulders slumped. It was a motion Sadie hadn’t seen him make for many years, making her heart ache.

“I don’t know if that’s your best course of action, especially if you really _are_ in trouble.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Frank shrugged, looking at the floor.

“I see,” said Sadie, putting her empty glass down on the nightstand. She suddenly found herself feeling quite worn out. “Goodnight, Mr Doyle.”

“Goodnight, Sadie,” said Frank.

Sadie lay facing the wall. She took the flask out of her pocket, looking at the engraving in the dim light. It took her a long time to fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie goes shopping.

When Sadie awoke the next morning, she reached over to wake Frank as she always did, frowning in confusion as she groped the empty air. Perhaps Frank had gotten up to find some breakfast for them to drink, or perhaps he’d -

Sadie opened her eyes, blinking up at the strange ceiling.   _Oh_ , she thought, _of course. The curse._

Frank wasn’t out and about in their penthouse apartment, sweetly making her a surprise breakfast cocktail. Frank was currently a ghost, probably sulking somewhere in the comparatively small hotel room.

“Mr Doyle?”

Sadie peered around the bathroom door. Frank was sitting in the bathtub, legs stretched out in front of him. She supposed it was an oversight of hers - after all, ghosts couldn’t sleep or kill their own drinks, and she hadn’t even thought to try and kill him some reading material (if such a thing could even be done).

“Mr Doyle have you been sitting here all night?”

Frank didn’t look up, staring tiredly at his feet. “Well, no. I met with the faeries as soon as their shop opened and they told me that they’d never heard of a spell featuring universe-moving, but that they’d ask around for me. Then I visited PJ, told him I was alright, he still feels terrible about me being dead. Thinks it’s _his fault_ , you know? Then I felt this itch all throughout my body, as though I had been away too long and I assumed it was some kind of tethering trick you did and came back. The tub’s nice, though. Porcelain helps out this sorry excuse for a suit.”

“I would kill you a new suit if I could, Mr Doyle.”

After all, it’s what she’d done for her own Frank after they’d met. However, tearing up a suit to kill it might just make it worse in the afterlife. Sadie didn’t have as much knowledge about how to care for specters as she originally thought, or perhaps now she was more invested in one’s well-being she was being more delicate about her choices.

“And speaking of new clothes, I’m afraid we’ll need to make a short stop before we visit those faerie friends of yours.”

Frank looked up at her. “Oh?”

Sadie turned, considering the dress she’d hung up on the back of the door. “Well obviously I can’t wear that dress again as it is. It think it’s barely going to last a shopping trip before it’s _completely_ unwearable, and no matter how different this world is from mine I think it would still cause quite a stir if I were to not wear anything at all.”

Sadie kept herself turned towards the dress, watching Frank’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. He bit his lip and looked rather flushed, for a ghost.

“I had best get changed,” said Sadie, after a moment.

“Yes,” said Frank.

Sadie unhooked her undergarments from the door, her bra hanging off one finger. She raised an eyebrow at Frank.

“Mr Doyle?”

“Right, yes, of course.” Frank scrambled out of the tub, floating quickly through the door.

Sadie smothered a giggle as she dressed. Multi-world consistency was proving to be delightful. She smoothed the dress out as best she could. It was still a little dirty in places, but with her coat over the top it would be unnoticeable to anyone not paying close attention. At any rate, it only had to last until she was able to change dresses.

She checked her purse. It was _probably_ enough for one decent dress. However, she _did_ always like to have some wriggle room, _just in case_ there was something particularly special that caught her eye. After all, one never knew where a shopping trip could take you. She’d just need to chase up some extra cash on the way there. She peered out the window onto the busy street below. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find money amongst all that.

“Ready to go, Mr Doyle?”

“I suppose,” said Frank, “although I must admit I am somewhat of a shopping novice.”

“That’s perfectly all right, darling. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it in no time at all.”

Sadie flexed her fingers as they made their way down in the elevator. Provided she chose her marks well, she would only need to pick up two or three wallets on her way there.

She spotted the first man quickly - he reminded her a little of her father, frowning in concentration and walking quickly. She bumped into him, slipping her hand deftly inside his jacket and pulling the wallet out, quickly transferring it to her own jacket pocket.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” said Sadie.

“Quite all right, young lady,” said the man, steadying her before hurrying on his way.

Frank shot her a frown, but said nothing. He was equally silent the second time it happened. The _third_ time she bumped into someone, he hovered closer to her.

“ _Are_ you alright Sadie? You seem very … off balance.”

Sadie ducked into a nearby alleyway and pulled out the wallets. She quickly transferred the cash to her purse.

“I was just gathering some extra funds,” she said, dropping the now-empty wallets into a bin.

“Why, _Sadie_ ,” said Frank, “where ever did a nice girl like you learn such a criminal act?”

Sadie smiled, continuing her walk towards her favourite boutique. “Oh I think it might surprise you to learn what a nice society girl could know.”

Frank hovered alongside her. “Oh _really_?”

They grinned at each other. She thought it was the happiest she’d seen this Frank, and it made her feel lighter.

“Yes. My husband taught me. He has very talented hands,” she added, waggling her eyebrows.

Frank, who had absolutely not been watching where he was going, floated right into an iron lamp-post. Sadie, getting a few odd looks from passersbys, quickly turned her delighted laugh into a cough.

Sadie bent, pretending to fix something on her shoe. “It seems as if _you_ are the one off balance, Mr Doyle.”

“I suppose that will teach me to think I can float through everything,” said Frank, rubbing his head.

Sadie smiled at him, and he hesitantly smiled back.

It wasn’t long before they reached the boutique. Frank hovered inside behind Sadie, looking nervous. She raised an eyebrow at him.

Frank shrugged. “I’ve never seen this many fancy clothes in one place before, that’s all.”

“I promise not to be too long,” said Sadie.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” asked a salesgirl, looking her up and down.

“Yes, you can,” said Sadie, putting on her best imitation of her mother’s ‘can you _believe_ the help is talking to me?’ tone, “I arrived in town this morning as as you can see my dress was _completely_ ruined, and _then_ my luggage was apparently put on the wrong train car, can you even _imagine_? So I’m looking for a few things to wear until my luggage can be sent for, you understand, and I was advised by a friend to come here.” Sadie mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that the Parker name still held sway. “A Miss Lucy Parker?”

“Miss Parker? Oh, of course, ma’am, I glad she was able to direct you here,” said the salesgirl, “might I inquire as to what you had in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Sadie carelessly, glancing as a few gowns, “a few dresses for the day and perhaps one for a night time event? And some undergarments of course.”

“Of course, just come this way and I’ll bring some suitable things out to you. Can I get you a drink of anything?”

“No, just the clothes will be fine. I’m in rather a hurry.”

“She certainly changed her tune,” said Frank, “I thought she was going to kick us out. Who’s Lucy Parker?”

“Someone I’m supposed to know,” whispered Sadie, stepping behind the screen to change.

She draped her coat and dress over the back of the chair in the small stall, before removing her flask from its holster and carefully placing it on the floor next to her shoes.

“Shall we start our way from, uh, the inside out ma’am?”

“Yes, nothing too extravagant. I have perfectly nice things amongst my lost luggage,” said Sadie.

The salesgirl nodded. “Understood, ma’am.”

“The inside out?” asked Frank.

“Undergarments first,” whispered Sadie.

“Oh,” said Frank, sounding tense, “yes. I see.”

“Mr Doyle?”

“I’m fine,” said Frank quickly, “I’m fine, don’t come out.”

Sadie smiled. “Oh I didn’t intend to. After all, I am in quite the state of undress at the moment.”

“Right,” said Frank, his voice cracking.

Sadie took slight mercy on Frank, quickly choosing underwear and not mentioning his rather flushed appearance as the salesgirl discussed the items with her.

She asked Frank’s opinion on each dress, silently of course, so as to not alert to salesgirl - scrunching up her nose at the awful ones and carefully considering Frank’s suggestions before narrowing down her choices. Some of the dresses were perfectly nice but not suitable for rushing around curse-breaking.

She particularly liked the dresses which made Frank seem to forget himself (always her favourite type of clothing when possible). There was a delicate silvery-grey lace dress that made Frank bite his lip when he thought she wasn’t looking, and a long black dress with a low collar and a rather daring front split that made Frank lose his voice entirely, both of which of course went directly on the ‘yes’ side of things,

“You really don’t have to ask my opinion,” said Frank, as the salesgirl took back another lot of rejected items. “I’m hardly an expert on dresses.”

“You’re doing quite a lot better than you think,” said Sadie, “and besides, I find it’s nice to get a second opinion on such things.”

“I suppose you usually go with your husband?”

“Well, yes.”

“I suppose he likes to spoil you with grand shopping trips,” continued Frank.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Mr Doyle, but I’m afraid it’s often to other way around,” said Sadie.

“Oh, I thought …”

“Yes,” said Sadie, “people usually do. It’s my husband who’s the kept one, rather than myself. And I do so enjoy spoiling him.”

“What happened to _his_ money?” asked Frank.

Sadie sat down on the chair, turning the flask over in her hands. Of all the people in the world to be having this conversation with, honestly.

“He never had any to begin with. Not that it ever mattered of course. He was able to give me something quite extraordinary.”

“What’s that?”

_An interesting life. Enthusiastic acceptance of all of who she was.  Love._

Sadie sighed, and looked upwards. “That is a rather personal question Mr Doyle, and one I do not feel like answering at the present.”

Sadie frowned at the ceiling. She could swear the lights almost looked as though they were forming neon numbers. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. The numbers were still there, counting down.

Before she could mention it to Frank, the salesgirl returned with a few more dresses that proved to be unsuitable, along with a red evening gown which Sadie did not need a second opinion on to know what Frank’s reaction would be. It was almost a shame she wouldn’t be able to keep it once they’d put everything back into it’s proper order. Perhaps once everything was settled she’d pay the boutique a visit and repurchase it.

And besides, it was always good to have something unexpected in one’s clothing arsenal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three dresses Sadie buys can be found here:  
> https://www.etsy.com/listing/97583858/sale-great-gatsby-erte-inspired-lace  
> http://www.cocofennell.com/products/spy-dress  
> https://www.etsy.com/listing/212457692/the-ultimate-holiday-dress-scarlett-kiss


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie makes a deal.

Sadie changed into the silvery-grey lace dress, and gave instructions for the rest of her purchases to be delivered to her room at the Plaza, making sure to leave enough for a tip for the delivery boy.

“And a little for yourself as well, darling,” said Sadie.

The salesgirl smiled tiredly. “Thank you ma’am.”

“Well, you certainly earned it. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d had to continue wearing that old thing. Have it sent along with the new things to the Plaza.”

The salesgirl assured Sadie that she would and Frank followed Sadie out of the boutique. She admired her new dress briefly in the store window.

“ _Much_ better, wouldn’t you agree, Mr Doyle?”

“I thought you looked equally beautiful in both dresses,” said Frank, “I - that is to say -”

Sadie smiled. “I think I understand your meaning Mr Doyle. Shall we go to meet your faerie contacts?”

“Right. Yes,” said Frank, “follow me.”

They took a streetcar most of the way. Sadie wished they could have taken a more private form of transportation so that she could speak to Frank. She kept seeing the same neon countdown around her as they moved through the city - on billboards, on shop windows, it even seemed to be on the roof of the tram. Curious glowing numbers, the light of which didn’t seem to reach the objects around it in any earthly way.

No one else seemed to notice, or  if they did, they didn’t seem to find it peculiar. Perhaps it was simply a difference between the worlds, thought Sadie.

The bookshop was empty as she and Frank entered. Sadie followed Frank to the counter, and he motioned for her to ring the bell, the chime echoing eerily through the store. Two tiny pale heads popped up from behind the counter. Tiny humanoid creatures, with translucent wings twitching on their backs.

“Doyle, hello!” said one with blue wings.

“Hello, Doyle!” said the other with green wings.

“Yes, hello,” said Frank, “This is Sadie, the woman I told you about, the one who wanted information on a world-switching curse.”

The two faeries looked curiously at Sadie before exchanging a look with each other.

“We did come across someone who might be able to help -”

“That’s wonderful!” said Sadie.

“- but they’re not just _giving_ away their help for free.”

Frank crossed his arms. “And how much is their _help_ going to cost?”

“Now Doyle, because we go back such a long way, we’ve been able to organise you a great deal,” said the faerie with blue wings.

“A deal of which _you_ get a cut in?” said Frank.

The faerie with green wings held up its hands, hovering above the counter. “Don’t be that way Doyle, we all have to make a living.”

“What exactly does this deal entail?” asked Sadie.

The faerie with the green wings beamed at her. “Sadie, ma’am, I’m glad you asked! We’ve fixed it so that instead of paying their asking price - which just between us, was _extremely_ extravagant - we managed to talk them down to a trade instead.”

“A trade of what, exactly?” said Sadie, extremely wary.

“They were quite interested in one of our more, shall we say, rare books,” said the faerie with blue wings, “so all you have to do if buy the book from us, and then they’ll trade _you_ the counter curse you need.”

“Well that sounds almost unbelievably simple,” said Sadie.

“Yes,” said Frank, suspiciously, “Unbelievably simple in that I am not sure that I actually believe it. How much do you want for the book?”

The blue-winged faerie tapped the glass counter, pointing to an old spell book under the glass. The price card was arranged above it.

Frank made a spluttering sound. “That’s -”

“Completely fine,” said Sadie, cutting him off, “although I’m sure you understand that I don’t carry around that sort of money with me. I will need a little time to get it together.”

The two faeries grinned at her, showing identical rows of needle-sharp teeth. “The interested party mentioned that they would like to make the trade sometime tomorrow.”

“Not a problem,” said Sadie, giving the faeries her most charming smile, “Please inform your contact that I will be ready to make the transaction by then. I’ll call you when I’ve gathered the appropriate funds.”

The green-winged faerie nodded, handing Sadie their card. “We’ll await your call.”

“Thank you,” said Sadie, “Come along, Mr Doyle.”

Frank followed her out, waiting until the door was shut before he turned to her. “Sadie, how on earth you you expect to get that much money?”

“Do calm down, Mr Doyle, I have a plan,” said Sadie, trying to keep her voice low so that she wouldn’t catch the attention of other pedestrians.

“Oh really?” said Frank, “and what is your plan, exactly? Are you going to pick pocket the entirety of Manhattan?”

“There’s no need to go to all that trouble, darling. After all, why go to the money, when you can just as easily find a way to make the money come to you?” said Sadie, pointing to a poster on a nearby wall.

_On Stage and In Person: BOBO BRUBAKER presents a spiritualistic seance! See UNEARTHLY SIGHTS as communications reach Mr Brubaker from the OTHER SIDE OF DEATH! SECRETS AND MYSTERIES REVEALED before your VERY EYES!_

“ _Bobo Brubaker_?” said Frank, “you cannot be serious Sadie, the man is a con artist. I certainly hope you don’t believe the claims he’s making. Bobo Brubaker has about as much medium ability as a lounge chair.”

“Not at all Mr Doyle, but although Bobo has never possessed any natural talent for the spiritual, he does seem to have a natural talent for wringing money from it.”

“Now, Sadie,” said Frank, “picking pockets is one thing, but getting wrapped up in the world of Bobo Brubaker is another thing entirely.”

“Oh there’s no need to worry about me, darling,” said Sadie, “I do have some experience being wrapped up in Bobo Brubaker.”

“I - what?”

“Well, in my world I - oh!” said Sadie, breaking off as she saw the neon numbers again.

They seemed brighter this time, standing out against the brick. Frank followed her line of sight.

“Sadie, are you seeing a rather garish light up count-down display on that wall over there?”

“Oh, you can see it too? Thank goodness, I was beginning to worry about it, I’ve been seeing it all day!.”

“I’ve been seeing them since you called me back to the world of the living, although I just assumed it was related to my being dead in some way,” said Frank, “This is my first time as a ghost, and I thought perhaps I was on the clock.”

Sadie caught sight of the witch, leaning against the wall next to the number. She grinned at Sadie, and waved to her from across the street. 

“Sadie, do you know that -” Frank started to say, but Sadie was already moving forward, dodging a taxi and almost causing an accident between two cyclists.

The witch had begun to walk  away, but Sadie caught her by the shoulder and spun her around.

“ _You_! You did this,” said Sadie, “you take me back home right now, or I’ll, I’lll…”

“You’ll what?” said the witch, shaking off Sadie’s hold, “I’m holding all the cards this time. You don’t even have your husband here for back up! In fact, I have it on very good authority that he’s no longer with us.”

Sadie swallowed around the lump in her throat. The witch, not being able to see ghosts, didn’t break eye contact with Sadie as Frank floated towards them, looking curious.

“I don’t need assistance to be able to defeat you,” said Sadie.

“That may be so, but you don’t exactly have long to do it,” said the witch, motioning to the neon numbers. “In less than 24 hours my spell will be completely set, and there will be no way back for you.”

Sadie glanced at the neon numbers. They pulsed as the number  of minutes shrunk. She looked back, and the witch had gone. She stood, staring at the glowing numbers, as though she she could feel time, and her Frank, slipping through her fingers.

“Sadie?” said Frank quitely, “the streetcar’s here.”

“Oh, yes,” said Sadie, trying to shake off the feeling in the pit of her stomach, “to Bobo.”

“I, ah, overheard that last part,” said Frank delicately as they made their way back across the street, “I suppose that’s what you were doing in the graveyard before you came to call on me? Trying to find your husband?”

Sadie focused on the streetcar ahead of her instead of looking over at Frank. “Yes.”

“And you couldn’t summon him?”

“I - He wasn’t there,” said Sadie.

Frank fell silent until they were seated.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you. About the curse.”

Sadie’s smile felt strained. “Quite alright Mr Doyle. After all, it’s rather a fantastical tale.”

On the ride there, she shut her eyes tight whenever she caught sight of the neon numbers. She would deal with that part of things later.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadie and Frank visit Bobo Brubaker.

There was quite a crowd out the front of the concert hall where Bobo’s show was to take place. Sadie pushed her way through until she reached a small side entrance door marked ‘performers only’.

“This way Mr Doyle,” she whispered.

“You certainly know your way around a theatre,” remarked Frank.

“Theatrical grandparents,” said Sadie, “I know every theatre in New York like the back of my hand.”

“A remarkable achievement,” said Frank.

“Truly remarkable feats are yet to come Mr Doyle,” said Sadie.

They’d reached the communal dressing rooms, but Sadie was sure Bobo would have insisted on a private room as he had in the previous theatre. As she moved through the row of tables and bright lamp lights, she could see a door with a note tacked to it, and as she drew closer she could read ‘Bobo Brubaker, Superior Spiritualist’ (written in Bobo’s own untidy scrawl).

Sadie smoothed down her hair and pulled down the front of her dress lower before knocking on the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Bobo, through the door, “it’s almost curtain up time, or whatever.”

“Oh no, Mr Brubaker, it’s Sadie. We spoke yesterday? I’m sorry for bothering you so close to your performance but I ... I wanted to apologise for leaving so suddenly the other day.”

Bobo swung open the door, leaning one shoulder on the doorframe as he looked her up and down.

“Babe, you have nothing to be sorry for, I know a lot of people get, you know, overwhelmed by what I can do to them, spiritually.”

Sadie opened her eyes wide, nodding. “Oh yes, that’s exactly what it was. And I’ve just been feeling just _awful_ about it since then, you _have_ to let me make it up to you.”

“Sadie _what_ are you _doing_?” said Frank, stepping in between them.

It was very hard for Sadie not to immediately change her focus to Frank. Instead, she quickly switched tactics, biting her lip and looking at the floor.

“I have to be on stage soon,” said Bobo, “I don’t think I have time for you to, like, properly make it up to me. But if you’re serious, or whatever about it you could wait for me here and we could, you know, find some way for you to make it up to me. Maybe I could even take you out afterwards, I know a lot of cool people who can get us into a lot of radical places.”

“Oh, Mr Brubaker,” said Sadie breathlessly, “That sounds positively _delightful_ , I’d _love_ to.”

“Bobo!” yelled someone from around the corner, “Two minutes!”

“I gotta go babe, but wait here and I’ll see you after the show, okay?”

Sadie smiled. “See you after the show, Mr Brubaker.”

“I don’t want formalities getting in the way of our future activities - Call me Bobo.”

“Bobo,” breathed Sadie, “a kiss for luck before you go on stage?”

Frank made a strangled sound. “Sadie, you are a _married woman_!”

Bobo leaned forward. Sadie placed a hand on his chest, sliding it down the lining of his jacket  and palming his wallet, before kissing him quickly on the cheek.

“Aw babe, that wasn’t much of a good luck kiss.”

“Then I suppose I shall be doubly making it up to you after your show,” Sadie whispered into his ear, slipping around him into the dressing room.

“Wow, ah, yeah,” said Bobo.

“Bobo!” yelled the same someone as before, sounding irate, “ _One minute_!”

“Sorry, babe. Gotta run, but I am really looking forward to your full apology.”

Sadie made sure he’d gone around the corner before locking the door and pulling the top of her dress back up. She opened Bobo’s wallet, flicking quickly through the contents, checking ticket stubs.

“Well,” said Frank, “I’m fairly certain your husband would have something to say about _that_.”

“I’m quite sure you’re right, Mr Doyle, in fact he would probably be in complete agreement with your absolute outrage on this matter.” Sadie held up a perfectly manicured finger. “However, it was the fastest possible way I could acquire one of these.”

She held up a card that she had pulled from the lining of Bobo’s wallet - the ace of hearts.

“If you really wanted a playing card I’m sure there are easier ways to acquire one,” said Frank, unimpressed.

“Ah Mr Doyle, to the untrained eye it _seems_ like just an ordinary playing card, but! To the trained eye …”

Sadie held the card close to the lamp, so it’s shadow fell against the wall. The tiny pinprick holes in the playing card spelt out an address, a date, and a time.

“The location of an exclusive underground poker tournament, happening this very night!” said Sadie.

“I would wager that performance was more impressive than Bobo’s entire act,” said Frank

“That’s very sweet of you to say,” said Sadie, “even though I suspect you may be rather biased in this instance.”

“Perhaps,” said Frank, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not entirely the truth of the matter.”

Sadie unlocked the door, checking that the coast was clear before quickly making her way back through the corridor to the theatre lobby. She hailed a taxi, and Frank floated in after her.

“Plaza hotel, please,” said Sadie.

“The Plaza?” said Frank, “ I thought we were going to the tournament?”

Sadie turned towards the window, speaking softly so that the driver wouldn’t overhear. “We are, but there’s a certain item I need to pick up at the hotel first.”

“As my friend PJ would say, you are quite the mysterious dame, Sadie.”

Sadie smiled. “All the best ladies are, darling.”


	11. Chapter 11

Sadie collected her boutique purchases from the front desk, looking over them as they rode the elevator to her room.

“Not to overstep my bounds as your ghostly advisor, but is a change of clothes _really_ so vital at the present time?” asked Frank.

“Oh yes Mr Doyle, absolutely it is,” said Sadie, “as I’m sure you’ll agree once you see the dress.”

“The black dress?” said Frank, sounding nervous.

Sadie smiled to herself, taking the package with her into the bathroom. “While that is a lovely dress, I had something different in mind. A dress that really makes an impact.”

“I think the black dress made quite enough of an impact,” muttered Frank.

Sadie left the silvery-grey lace dress hanging up on the back of the door, slipping on the red velvet evening gown in its place. She looked herself over in the mirror - the velvet fabric clung to her body to the knee, elegantly forming a small train. The front was daringly low-cut, the halter top of the dress secured by a large bow, which trailed down her back. The perfect dress for distracting the eye of rival poker players.

Sadie pushed the door open. “What do you think, Mr Doyle?”

Frank looked over from where he was peering out the window, and took a deep breath at the sight of her.

She turned slowly in a circle. “Well?”

Frank opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, but no sound emerged. His pale spectral cheeks were tinged pink. Sadie raised an eyebrow.

“I take back what I said earlier,” said Frank hoarsely, “that dress is _absolutely_ vital.”

Sadie felt her own face warm at his tone. “Yes, I thought you’d agree. Shall we go?”

Frank nodded, hovering by the closed door. “After you, Sadie.”

Sadie fought to smother giggles on the way to the elevator, biting her lip. Frank gave her a questioning look.

“Oh, it’s just,” Sadie waved a hand, trying to get herself under control, “this just reminds me so much of my husband and I’s first formal date. I remember, we were both so nervous, even though we’d been out together before, but he was _insistent_ we do something proper for St.Valentine’s Day.”

Sadie smiled at the memory of  Frank waiting nervously in her doorway with the flowers he had quite assuredly picked from someone’s window box on the way to see her. They’d held hands on the way to the theatre, and she’d barely been able to look away from their joined hands. She hadn’t stopped smiling all night.

“I think he called in almost every favour he was owed to get us private box seating at the theatre, and I don’t even remember what we saw. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but him for the entire night.”

“Do you …” said Frank hesitantly, “do you think of this as a date?”

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose it is,” said Sadie, hailing a taxi.

Frank hesitated slightly before floating in after her. Sadie gave the address the the driver, smoothing out her dress as she sat back. If Frank had been corporeal he would have been perched on the edge of his seat.

“Mr Doyle, are you alright?” said Sadie.

“I’m - I just - I’m not sure … That is, I…”

Sadie reached over, putting her hand approximately on top of his. It felt a bit like holding a chilled glass. “What is it darling?”

Frank bit his lip. “It’s just that, if I were your - I mean, I’m not sure that your husband would be particularly _pleased_ that you were out on a date without him.”

“I’m sure he would be grateful to you for accompanying me tonight.”

Frank took away his hand, running it through his hair. “You keep saying that - that your husband would be understanding, but I don’t -”

“He knows that I am safest when I am with you” said Sadie, “There is no one in whose hands he would rather I be, if not his own, and I quite agree with him on the matter.”

Frank let out a breath, frustrated. “But how do you _know_ he’d think that? If I was married to you, I’d -” Frank broke off, looking away.

_Oh_ , thought Sadie. She supposed that was a rather sharp reminder of how things were at present. She supposed she might be partially at fault for Frank’s discomfort, she had been acting as though they were embarking on a date, trying to forget - for a short while - the awful reality of the situation she found herself in.

“You’d _what_ Mr Doyle?”

“I’d - I’d be devastated if you went running around with some ghostly nobody,” muttered Frank.

“You are _not_ a ghostly nobody,” said Sadie, “but if it will ease your mind, Mr Doyle, we do not have to think of this as being any sort of date. You’ll just be my escort for the evening, surely you wouldn’t begrudge a lady for wanting an escort?”

“Fine,” said Frank.

Sadie looked him over, concerned. He certainly didn’t seem any more at ease with the situation.

She touched the flask where it was secured to her leg through the fabric of her dress. If all went well, she would be successful tonight, this whole curse business would be sorted out by tomorrow evening, and she would be back with her own darling Frank.

If all went well.


	12. Chapter 12

The door leading to the poker tournament was located down a grimy alley, and having Sadie’s elegant figure juxtaposed with it only served to highlight how amazing she looked. She seemed completely unfazed by it, gracefully stepping around scattered trash as she approached the plain steel door. Even her trailing dress remained unblemished by the layer of dirt and oil that coated the ground.

Frank was certain that, had he been in her place, he would not have had even a small fraction of her calm. He floated next to her, watching as she knocked twice and waited patiently.

The widow slit slid open, revealing the bulging eyes of the tournament's security. “Yeah?”

Sadie serenely held up the playing card, angling it so that the light from the window shone through it.  The window slit slammed shut, and there was a grating noise as the door opened. The door led to a small curtained-off room.

“Sadie, perhaps we should -” began Frank, but Sadie was already moving forward, her velvet dress swishing on the bare floorboards as she pushed through the curtains, leaving Frank no choice but to follow her.

He blinked at the sudden change of light. The inside of this room was much nicer, as if someone had pulled out the insides of a high class lounge and put it inside a large warehouse.

Sadie was already headed for the bar. Several people turned away from their conversations to watch her. Sadie smiled, but did not acknowledge any of them.  
  


Instead, she caught Frank’s eye, smile widening. Frank smiled back at her, basking in the moment. He didn’t think anyone had even smiled at him as much as Sadie had in the few hours he’d known her. Even Catherine had -

Well. Catherine had had her own troubles to deal with. Frank shook himself, looking over at Sadie as she leant on the bar. She certainly cut a very striking figure.

“Uh, what’ll it be?” asked the bartender, sounding slightly dazed. Frank didn’t blame him.

“Whiskey, thank you.”

Sadie reached for the glass, delicately tipping it over. “Oh _no_ , I’m so sorry, how terribly clumsy of me!”

“Not to worry ma’am, I’ll get you a fresh one,” said the bartender.

Sadie nodded towards to the now-spectral glass sitting in front of Frank.

“I … thank you,” said Frank.

“You looked as though you could use one, Mr Doyle,” murmured Sadie, sipping her drink as she scanned the room.

“There’s very rarely a situation where I _cannot_ use one,” said Frank.

“My feelings _exactly_.”

Sadie knocked her glass on, or rather through, his glass, as though she were attempting to toast. She frowned, and Frank opened his mouth to ask her what was the matter.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

A man about Sadie’s age leant on the bar next to her. Frank _immediately_ disliked him, from his slicked back hair, to his expensive suit, to the way he was looking Sadie up and down in a shockingly indecent manner.

Frank felt this, of course, on behalf of Sadie’s absent husband. If his views were as in line with Frank’s own as Sadie said they were, Frank had no doubt her husband would be loathe to let this man speak to Sadie.

“This seat is _absolutely_ taken,” said Frank, “by _me_.”

“Not at all darling,” said Sadie, holding out her hand, “Sadie Doyle.”

Just as he had the first time she’d said it, Frank felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. The ease with which Sadie used his last name in place of her own, as though using it came as naturally to her as breathing.

The man took Sadie’s hand, kissing the knuckles and lingering there a fraction too long.

“Well, I _never_!” said Frank.

“Sadie Doyle, please allow me to introduce myself. I’m Ewing Klipspringer,” said the man, _keeping a hold of Sadie’s hand_ , “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around at one of these events before.”

“No?” said Sadie.

“No,” said Ewing, “I’m certain that if I’d seen someone like you before I would have remembered it, and perhaps dreamed of it for the rest of my life.”

Sadie laughed. “Oh, Ewing, come now. We’ve only just met.”

“And yet, I can feel the magic in the air,” said Ewing, “as though before you walked into my life everything was shrouded in darkness, and now -”

“Mr Klipspringer - Ewing, I -”

Ewing’s eye widened. “Oh, I’m such a fool, of course you’re here with someone already!”

“Yes,” said Frank, “as a matter of fact she is!”

Sadie pressed her lips together for a moment, considering. “No, I’m not here with anyone. However, I _am_ here to participate in the tournament.”

“Ah, of course! I know the organisers of this little event well. Follow me and I’ll help you get everything sorted. Do you know much about poker?”

“Oh,” said Sadie, “just a little.”

Frank watched, mostly managing to keep his comments about Ewing to himself as Ewing droned on about the rules and history of poker, talking her through how to put her money in for the tournament, and reminding her frequently how familiar he was with tonight’s organisers.

Curiously, Frank’s outrage at the man made the corner of Sadie’s lip twitch, and a few times he was _sure_ he saw her smother giggles. It was the strangest thing - he’d never been particularly commended on his sense of humor before, nor had he ever had any real cause to bother about one, but as Sadie bit her lip to stop a laugh escaping he could certainly to see the value in developing one.

“I’m not moving too fast for you, am I Sadie?” said Ewing, standing very much too close behind Sadie as he explained the various card combinations.

“Not at all Ewing, although I must confess - I have played a few hands before.”

“Ah, a poker tournament is different from a few hands with your society-lady friends,” said Ewing, “I do hope you’ve prepared yourself for a more difficult kind of game. I would hate for someone of such devastating beauty to be disappointed. Although, if you do feel that way you should let me know, and I will do my utmost to cheer your mood.”

“Should the need arise, I shall keep you in mind.”

A bell sounded from the front of the room, and the chatter of the participants quietened as they looked towards the small stage.

A thin, reedy man looked out at them, waving a hand at a large wall chart. “Behind me is a diagram indicating your tables. Once there is a winner from each table, those winners will be organised into tables of their own, and so on until we have one table left. There will be no breaks during games, and those found to be cheating or using conduct which we consider to be foul play will be _unable_ to play in future games.”

To emphasise the word _unable_ , a hulking man to the right of the stage cracked his knuckles menacingly.

“Sadie,” said Frank, “are you sure you wouldn’t rather gather the funds in a safer way? Bank robbery perhaps?”

“Although bank robbery does sound like terrific fun, you really have not to fear Mr Doyle,” whispered Sadie.

“I hesitate to even imply that I agree with that Klipspringer fellow in any way, but he’s not wrong in suggesting that a poker game with high society ladies might be quite different from this game.”

 _You could be hurt_ , thought Frank, _and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it._

“I think you and he both should reconsider your opinion of high society ladies,” said Sadie, “and perhaps I will be the one to make you.”

As concerned as Frank was, he absolutely did not doubt Sadie on that.

He hovered behind her as she took her place at the first table. Thankfully Ewing had been placed on another table, but two of the gentlemen were openly staring at Sadie’s decolletage, and one of the other ladies seated wasn’t being particularly subtle either.

Frank glared at them. Even if they couldn’t see him, it was the principal of the thing. Sadie’s husband wasn’t here, so he would just have to glare at these people on his behalf. That was _absolutely_ the _only_ reason he felt annoyed at their behaviour.

Sadie smiled at the rest of her table, keeping the smile in place as she looked at her cards.

“I could tell you what the others have?” offered Frank.

Sadie gave her head the barest of shakes. _No_.

 _Well_ , thought Frank, _she’s been correct in every one of her instincts so far. I suppose I would be a fool_ not _to trust her._

It was an odd feeling, trusting Sadie so much that he didn’t even float around behind the other players, lest he give something away to Sadie about their cards.

He needn’t have worried - Sadie neatly won the game, shaking hands respectfully with those she had defeated.

“Sadie!” said Ewing, coming up from behind her, “Has your match ended already? I’ve been knocked out of mine, though it carries on without me.”

“Oh no,” said Sadie, “I do hope you didn’t lose too much.”

Ewing waved a hand. “Oh you know how these things are, it’s just play money. Perhaps I could buy you a drink to soothe your loss?”

“Perhaps I should buy _you_ one instead Ewing, as I did not lose my match,” said Sadie.

“Really? Well, beginner’s luck I suppose, good on you!”

Sadie’s smile took on a strained edge. “Yes, I suppose beginner’s luck is a very fortunate thing to have.”

“The other games seem to have a little while to go, would you do me the honour of spending your break with me at the bar?”

“I think perhaps I should go freshen up before I face the next match.”

“Oh yes, I suppose it is quite tense isn’t it?” said Ewing, “I’ll wait for you at the bar, and if you do find yourself with spare time perhaps you’ll spend it with me?”

“Perhaps,” said Sadie.

She headed for the curtained off area to one side, motioning for Frank to follow her. The space was empty apart from a smaller screened off area for the lavatory and a hastily set up basin, water jug, and mirror.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to wait outside?” said Frank.

“What? Oh no,” said Sadie, “I don’t need to actually freshen up at all, I just needed a break from Ewing.”

Frank couldn’t help himself - he let out a sharp bark of laughter. It set off Sadie giggling, which made Frank only laugh more. He hadn’t laughed this hard since … well, he couldn’t even remember since when.

“And here I thought you found him charming,” said Frank, after he’d managed to get his breath back.

“He’s a dear, but he can be quite intense with his affections, and I would rather save my mental faculties for poker rather than innuendo.”

Frank frowned. “It seems as though you are a great deal more familiar with him than he is with you.”

“Oh, you know,” Sadie waved a hand, “men of a certain type. They become easy to predict.”

“And what type am I?”

Sadie’s smile was a sharp, wicked thing. “Another type _entirely_ , Mr Doyle.”

The bell sounded again, indicating the other tables had completed their game. Frank felt a flutter of nerves as he followed Sadie to her new table. This group of players was much more serious - only one of them stared openly at Sadie.

This time the game lasted a little longer, although during the final hand Frank did feel as though Sadie was stretching things out on purpose, giving herself a smaller break. Ewing barely had time to express his surprise at her continued beginner’s luck before Sadie took her place at her new table.

Ewing seemed so honestly surprised by the very idea of Sadie having any sort of poker skills that Frank began to feel insulted on her behalf, and he told her so as the dealer shuffled the cards. Sadie, unable to say anything due to the close proximity to other people, beamed at him. Frank honestly couldn’t have asked for a better reply than Sadie smiling.

She began to glance at the bar half way through the game. Frank worried for her lack of concentration, although she apparently didn’t need to give the other players her full attention to beat them all soundly. She collected her winnings and headed to the bar.

“Another game won Sadie? You are having a fantastic run of things,” said Ewing.

“Yes,” said Sadie, then turning to the bartender she added, “whiskey, please.”

She looked apologetically at Frank, who shrugged.

“I can always get a drink once we’re back at the Plaza.”

“I suppose so,” said Sadie, “but I do still feel badly about it.”

“You feel badly about what?” said Ewing.

“Oh,” said Sadie, “ah, that we didn’t  get a chance to play against one another.”

Ewing grinned at her, leaning in close. “We still could, if you’re free after this -”

The bell chimed again.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Ewing, but I must go to my last game,” said Sadie.

She drained her glass. Frank watched the movement of her throat, and then averted his gaze from her entirely. He hadn’t thought that ghosts could feel heat, but he certainly felt as though the room had grown warm.

Frank floated over Sadie’s shoulder, silently watching the hands she was dealt. She casually bet increasingly large sums as other players were knocked out of the game with no thought to what its loss could mean. Each time the winner of each hand was revealed, Frank’s heart lodged itself in his throat.

Sadie remained unfazed throughout. Even though this was the game that could decide whether she would be able to complete the deal to end her curse, she was completely serene. Frank kept getting distracted from the rhythm of the game, his focus drawn instead to Sadie’s delicate hands as she held her cards, or to the small twitch of her lips at a particularly good (or bad) hand. He barely even registered that she’d won until the reedy man from earlier in the night was congratulating her.

Ewing approached her as she was collecting the cash winnings. “Sadie!”

“Oh, what does he want _now_?” said Frank.

Sadie pressed her lips together, suppressing a laugh, before she turned to Ewing. “Hello again, Mr Klipspringer.”

“Now Sadie, there’s no need to be so formal, I’m just here to offer my congratulations on your amazing success tonight,” said Ewing.

“Well, that’s very kind of you -”

“And I was thinking that perhaps you and I might take those winnings and have a small celebration,” said Ewing.

He did not phrase it as a question, more like a statement of fact of what they would be doing next, as though Sadie’s agreement was a foregone conclusion.

Sadie clicked the briefcase shut. “As delightful as your offer is, I’m afraid I must decline.”

“Decline?” said Ewing, laughing a little, “Sadie, come now, the night is still young, and surely you feel elated after your victory. We could toast to it at the most _exclusive_ place I know.”

“And I suppose that place would be your apartment?”

“Sadie, you read my mind,” said Ewing.

“No,” said Sadie, tiredly, “I’ve just heard it before. And I’m afraid I still must decline. I have other plans for the evening.”

Sadie tried to push past him, but Ewing caught her arm.

“Ewing!” said Sadie.

“You absolute - you remove your hand at _once_!” said Frank.

Frank, acting without thought, tried to pull Ewing off her. Although Ewing could not physically feel Frank’s touch, he flinched back as Frank’s hand went through his arm..

Ewing frowned, wriggling his hand as though he was trying to get feeling back. “You’re dreadfully cold Sadie.”

“It’s been said.” She smiled, using the distraction to step past Ewing. “Good night Mr Klipspringer.”

She walked quickly down the grimey alley towards the main street, getting in a cab just as Ewing stumbled out of the alley. She pulled the door shut, locking it, and Frank ghosted through it after her.

“The Plaza hotel as fast as you can,” she instructed the driver.

She watched through the back window as Ewing hovered on the curb, looking as though he was thinking about running after her. The cab rounded the corner before he could make his choice. Sadie visibly relaxed.

“Sadie,” said Frank, “are you alright?”

Sadie smiled tiredly at him. “Perfectly so Mr Doyle. I suppose I should thank you for defending my honour.”

Frank felt a rush of warmth again, and wondered if there was some sort of ghost-warming sigil in the cab. “It was nothing, I was - I was acting on instinct, I suppose. I’m sure you’re quite capable of defending your own honour if the need arises.”

“Indeed I am, but sometimes …” Sadie put her hand over his translucent one. It felt as though he was holding his hand up to a flame. “Sometimes it’s nice to have assistance.”

Frank’s throat felt dry. “I’m sure it’s what your husband would have done, if he were here.”

Sadie laughed softly. “Yes, I do believe you’re right.”

She leant to one side, almost as though she was resting her head on his shoulder. He wasn’t - he didn’t have any _feelings_ for Sadie, no, he was just doing what her husband would have done, had he been here. He liked Sadie, certainly, she was incredibly likeable, but there was absolutely no stronger feelings than that. He was just filling in for Sadie’s missing husband. That was absolutely the only -

Sadie sighed, her eyelashes fluttering as her eyes closed. He’d never been one for flowery prose, but Frank thought he could write a sonnet about the small puffs of breath he could almost feel on his neck. He would have given anything in the world to be able to touch her, _really_ touch her.

The cab hit a pothole, jolting Sadie’s leg. Frank could see the lump of the flask under her dress. The flask her husband had given her.

 _Right_ , thought Frank, _Yes. Sadie’s husband._

The husband she was going through all this trouble to get back to. The one his was just filling in for.

He looked down, to where her hand was still covering his. Frank Doyle was in love, and it was awful.


	13. Chapter 13

Sadie was dozing by the time the cab pulled up in front of the Plaza, still leaning approximately against him.

“Hey, lady, we’re here,” said the driver.

Frank hesitated before reaching out to shake Sadie awake. Of course, his hand went straight through Sadie’s shoulder, but she woke up nonetheless.

“Oh, thank you, darling,” said Sadie, blinking up at him, “I must have fallen asleep.”

“Happens to the best of us ma’am,” said the driver.

Sadie yawned. “Yes.”

She seemed to perk up on the elevator ride. Sadie sighed with relief as she closed the door, quickly stowing the briefcase away in the hotel room safe before dialing the number for the faeries’ bookstore. Frank listened as she arranged a time to drop by the next day.

“Well,” said Sadie, after she’d hung up the phone, “we’ll have plenty of time before the numbers run out to make the trade, and I think that calls for a celebration. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr Doyle?”

Frank could see very little worth celebrating about Sadie going out of his life forever, but on the other hand the situation did leave him very much wanting a drink.

He forced a smile. “Absolutely it does. If you would do the honours?”

“I would be honoured to do the honours,” said Sadie, delighted. She knocked over a drink for him first before pouring her own. “To our victory, Mr Doyle.”

“Although I will most certainly drink to it, I’m not sure that I can take credit for tonight’s events, as it was most certainly your skill that won that tournament.”

“Oh, well,” said Sadie, waving a hand, her cheeks tinged pink.

“No, no, you did were simply …” Frank searched for the right word, “... Amazing. Simply amazing.”

Sadie smiled at him, refilling their drinks. “It’s all a matter of practise, really. Perhaps I undersold myself somewhat by letting you assume that I had only participated in more casual games.”

“So there really was no beginner’s luck in play at all,” said Frank.

“I’m afraid not,” said Sadie, “besides which, I have participated in poker tournaments _far_ more unruly than that, so you and Mr Klipspringer needn’t have worried.”

“I was never worried,” said Frank. She raised an eyebrow. “Alright, perhaps I was a little worried, but more so for what other people might do. I wasn’t worried about your lack of ability in any sense of the word. In fact, I’m not entirely sure that you _have_ a lack in _any_ ability.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you to say, Mr Doyle.”

“It’s hardly kindness if it’s the truth of the matter.”

“Still,” said Sadie, “I appreciate your confidence in me. It is a great source of comfort.” She looked as if she were going to add something else, but changed her mind, taking a drink instead. “I do believe I shall take a bath, as that warehouse smell seems to have bonded itself to my dress. A refill before I go, Mr Doyle?”

“And pour one for yourself too while you’re there, I insist.”

“How kind of you,” said Sadie.

She left the door ajar as she ran the bath, enough so that Frank could see steam forming on the mirror. Frank caught a flash of red velvet as she stripped off her dress, and he quickly looked away. Surely, this was some form of hellish punishment. It certainly felt as hot.

Frank heard her sigh and she lowered herself into the bath, and judged it to be safe enough to look through the doorway again. He could see her flask reflected in the mirror. The object of his tethering, inscribed with words from Sadie’s beloved husband.

Frank considered the flask. While Sadie had been correct in that spirits did not have much say in the tethering process, ordinarily those spirits had not spent their lifetime as a practising medium. Provided he could manage to make the appropriate sigils, he would be free to do as he liked.

At any rate, once Sadie completed her business tomorrow they would be going their separate ways, and it wasn’t as though she’d need him to make tomorrow’s trade. The faeries were honest enough if they were getting a good deal, and Sadie would certainly be able to hold her own against them without his help.

Frank swirled the last of his whiskey around and around, watching the spectral liquor as he considered his options. He might as well make a go of it now, while Sadie was distracted. He’d always preferred to leave on his own terms, rather than being cast out.

He peered around the door. She must have poured an enormous amount of bubblebath mixture in as she was running the taps, as the only part of Sadie visible was her head, tipped back to rest on the lip of the bathtub. She was smiling, eyes closed and peaceful, surrounded by clouds of white bubbles. Frank had to force himself to look away.

The flask was resting on the lip of the bathtub by Sadie feet. If he could manage to pick up and move a piece of chalk that far and draw the sigils on the floor, Sadie would never even need know he was there.

Luckily, Sadie’s bag had come open when she’d dropped it next the the liquor cabinet, so he at least didn’t have to worry about that part of the process. Nevertheless, it took quite a while for him to move the chalk. At every small splashing noise from Sadie, Frank froze, worried she would catch him in the act.

In truth, Frank wasn’t quite sure how she’d react to him attempting to untether himself. It wasn’t as though she had really required his help after he’d made contact with the faeries, and she could have easily sent him back to hell once that had been done.

Although … Frank frowned. Now that he thought about it, she’d seemed unusually upset by the thought of him in hell, even going to far as to say it wasn’t something that he deserved. Plenty of people during his life had told him to go there, and he certainly felt as though that punishment fit his particular set of crimes. It was probably due to Sadie’s kind-hearted nature, Frank thought.She seemed to suffer from an overabundance of empathy.

Frank managed to hold the chalk in his hand all the way to the bathroom door, moving slowly and putting all his concentration into keeping the chalk in his hand. He quickly checked to see if Sadie was still as distracted as before - she was, eyes still closed.

He pushed through the door, careful to guide the hand with the door through the physical gap, and moved towards the flask.

“Can I help you with something Mr Doyle?” said Sadie, her eyes still closed.

Frank dropped the chalk. “I - uh - I was just - um -”

“Just attempting to untether yourself via a series of sigils and a very ancient incantation?”

“No?” tried Frank.

Sadie opened her eyes, moving to sit up a little more. Frank looked away as the line of bubbles dipped to reveal her shoulders. Her skin was flushed pink with the heat of the bath, the residual bubbles glistening.

“Mr Doyle, if you are unhappy with our arrangement, you could have told me.”

“I’m not unhappy with it,” said Frank quickly, “It’s just that … I don’t know, I got to thinking about what I’d do when our arrangement is over, and I suppose _that_ got me wondering why you’ve even kept me on in the first place.”

“Whatever do you mean, Mr Doyle?”

Frank smiled tiredly. “Come now Sadie, you can’t pretend I’ve been of any real help. You worked out a deal with the faeries, snuck backstage and pickpocketed a professional con man, and won a poker tournament, and you certainly didn’t need my help to do any of that.”

“But you have been helping!”

“I’m afraid I fail to see how.”

Sadie leant forward, putting her hand on the rim of the bathtub. Like her shoulders, the skin of her back was flushed, small bubbles sliding their way down towards the soapy water. Frank swallowed hard.

“Mr Doyle,” said Sadie seriously, “you have been helping, by believing in me. Having someone who trusts you is an extremely rare commodity, and one which I value very highly.”

Frank found that he couldn’t look away from Sadie. “I… thank you, Sadie.”

“I believe a wise man told me quite recently that there was no reason to thank someone for telling the truth, Mr Doyle.”

Sadie smiled up at him, and Frank smiled back. It was almost becoming a frighteningly automatic reaction to Sadie.

“Mr Doyle …”

Frank floated closer. “Yes Sadie?”

“I  was thinking I might get out of the bath now.”

“Of course, right,” said Frank, hurriedly floating back through the door, “yes, I suppose the water must be getting cold by now, and you wouldn’t want to get a chill.”

Unfortunately, he made the mistake of looking back as Sadie climbed out of the bath. Through the crack in the door he caught sight of pink-pale skin and sparkling bubbles as Sadie reached for her towel. As he looked away, Sadie looked up, catching his eye.

“Sadie I -”

“Perfectly alright, Mr Doyle,” said Sadie.

He heard her giggle, and wondered if it were possible to die a second time from embarrassment.


	14. Chapter 14

Sadie padded out of the bathroom in the white fluffy robe from the night before, her hair loose around her shoulders.

“A drink before bed, Mr Doyle?”

“Well, as ghosts don’t sleep it will be more of a late night drink for me, but I certainly won’t say no.”

Sadie began mixing a martini. “Oh yes, I had forgotten. Would you like me to make extra before I retire for the evening?”

“Very kind of you Sadie, but we can always save it for tomorrow.”

Sadie smiled to herself. “Indeed we can, a small celebratory drink before we complete the trade with the mysterious and helpful person, and then everything can return to normal.”

“Yes,” Frank managed.

It was difficult to speak with such a lump in his throat, and more difficult still to imagine trying to go on as he had before now that he had met Sadie. There was always the chance that reversing whatever curse Sadie had found herself under would erase his memory of their time together, but that almost seemed worse, to imagine his counterpart existing without even knowing of Sadie’s existence.

“Say,” said Frank, trying to keep his tone casual, “once you’ve set things right again, do you think you would be able to call on me? As long as your husband doesn’t mind the added company, of course.”

“I can’t imagine that he’d have any issue with it whatsoever,” said Sadie.

She took a sip from her own glass, gesturing to the ghostly one she had prepared for him.

“He really wouldn’t mind?” asked Frank.

“Well, perhaps if it were anyone else. He can be rather jealous,” Sadie’s smile was soft, almost wistful. “But then again, so can I, on occasion. Often over the same individual.”

Frank took a steadying drink. “It sounds as though you are quite the match.”

“Oh yes,” said Sadie, pouring them both refills, “we are indeed. He makes my life endlessly entertaining simply by being himself.Truly, he’s the most remarkable man I have ever met.”

“To my mind, it still seems as though he is the lucky one,” muttered Frank.

“Yes, people have often said so,” said Sadie, “but I think that we have both been equally lucky in finding one another. Haven’t you ever felt that way about another person, Mr Doyle?”

“Once, but it … it didn’t work out. Catherine, she - died.” Frank’s throat felt dry, and he took a long drink, trying to remedy it.

“I’m so sorry,” said Sadie, softly.

“Sadie, don’t - I don’t deserve your pity for this. It was all my fault - I let her go in alone, when I should have _been_ there.”

She was looking at him with such _concern_. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

Frank let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Not nearly enough.”

Sadie stepped closer to him, reaching out a hand and then drawing it back, as though she kept forgetting that she couldn’t physically touch him. “Frank, it’s perfectly natural to feel responsible for her death, but that doesn’t mean it’s the truth of the matter. After all, you said your friend PJ blamed himself for your death, and you don’t believe that to be the case, do you?”

“Well, no, but that’s different. We weren’t working together at the time. And he tried to warn me off the job,” Frank smiled wryly. “It’s not his fault I was too stubborn to listen to him.”

Sadie paused, biting her lip. “Mr Doyle, if you don’t mind me asking, how ... how did you die?”

Frank let out a long sigh, longer than any living human would have been able to produce. “Sadie, it’s truly a terrible story, and not one I’m particularly fond of, for obvious reason. Surely a lady of your stature would prefer to talk of more pleasant topics.”

“Franklin Justification Doyle, in the time you have known me you have seen me wearing an _extremely_ ragged dress, sitting on dirt, pickpocketing strangers, and speaking to Bobo Brubaker, do you really think there is anything that you could say that would faze me?”

“No,” said Frank, “No, I suppose not. And if it’s a tale you would _really_ like the hear …”

“I would,” said Sadie, refilling his glass.

Frank steeled himself, emptying the glass with one swallow. “The night I died was an ordinary night, by my standards. An ordinary, demon-slaying night. ‘When in doubt, chop off the head. Frank Doyle saves the day’ as I would say, as I ended another supernatural menace. I headed my way to the bar that night, eager for a few dozen drinks to ease me back to my place, and hopefully sleep. PJ was the bartender at this high-society bar at the time, and he’d always let me drink for half-price and  make sure none of that crowd tried to kick me out. He’d just handed me another one of his subpar martinis -”

Sadie, taking it as a signal, and refilled his glass once again.

“Oh, this is delicious. PJ is my friend and a colleague but his martini skills belong in the underworld. So PJ tells me about Bobo Brubaker, who, by the way, I am _astounded_ you also know. Did you have to do community service in your other universe? Anyway, Bobo, who’s performing fake seances for the rich and well-disposed in a _haunted house_. So I rush over to make sure he’s not getting himself or anyone else killed and, well, I’m afraid it all goes downhill from there.”

Frank paused. Sadie had gone quite pale, leaning heavily on the liquor cabinet for support. The hand holding her glass was trembling.

“Sadie, is everything alright? Not to make light of the situation, but you look as though you’ve, well, seen a ghost.”

“Everything is _not_ alright, Mr Doyle,” Sadie seemed absolutely outraged. “Somebody should have been there to _help_ you defeat that monster, somebody should have saved you! I - You are important, Frank, and _someone_ should have been there to make sure you saw the next day!”

She blinked back tears. Frank, unaccustomed as he was to seeing women crying over his life or death, was ill-equipped to deal with her reaction. He’d known that she had been affected by the thought of him in hell, but to be so upset with the mere idea of him dying?

“Really, Sadie, it’s fine. I had a good, well maybe not _good_ , or _long_ , or particularly _fulfilling_ life, but I saved people until the end, and that’s what counts.” Frank was mostly rambling now. He wished that he could touch Sadie, if only to rub her arm in a soothing fashion. That sort of thing was supposed to help situations like this one, or so he’d been told. “I was a nobody, Sadie. No matter what your husband said of me, I was nothing and I’m still nothing, no-one misses me. Please, you mustn't be sad that I’m dead.”

If anything, his assurances seemed to make the situation worse.

Sadie glared at him, eyes flashing in anger. “Frank Doyle, you are _terribly_ important. Pterodactyl Jones misses you terribly, and you _saved_ those people at that party. Do not ever, for one second, think that you are better off dead. I _know_ you, Mr Doyle. I know that you love dogs and children and liquor - though not in that order. I know that you are brave, and kind, and selfless.”

Frank tried to interrupt, because surely Sadie must know he was none of those things, but she was not to be interrupted, raising her voice over his protests.

“I know you help people even when they don’t deserve to be helped. I know you fight for what’s right even when the world hasn’t done its best by you. You, Mr Doyle, are a _good_ person and you _deserved_ to live far longer than you have in this, or any universe!”

Sadie was breathing had by the time she’d finished, and well, Frank had never been one to back down from a fight.

“What I _deserved_ was to be in hell, which _you_ pulled me from, and then forcibly attached me to a flask from your beloved husband, whom you are desperate to get back to so you can forget all about this and me, I’m sure.”

Sadie opened her mouth to argue, but this time it was Frank’s turn to raise his voice over hers. “You say that you _know_ me so well Sadie, but it seems as though you have a rather distorted view of me. I tell you that I loved a girl and that she died _because of me_ and your response is to tell me I’m wrong? What would _you_ know about it anyway? How do you _know_ that I’m so blameless?”

“Because I _know_ you, Mr Doyle!”

“Is that so, _Mrs Doyle_?!”

Something in Sadie’s face seemed to shutter itself off, her expression going carefully blank. Frank felt sure he’d stepped over some line with her, and he braced himself for a further verbal onslaught. Instead, she rubbed a hand over her face, suddenly looking so tremendously _tired_ that Frank felt a rush of guilt for whatever he’d done to cause her to look like that, winning the argument be dammed.

“You’re right, Mr Doyle. This is your universe, not mine,” said Sadie, turning away. “It’s been a terribly busy day. I think I’ll just go to bed, if that’s alright.”

Frank could only watch as she disappeared under the covers without sparing him so much as a glance. He felt frozen to the spot, and at the same time, hyper-aware of every small movement she made.

He tried to think back to what had provoked such a reaction from her, replaying their argument in his mind. She’d been strong in her argument, absolutely holding her own against him and then … Frank frowned. Then he’d called her ‘Mrs Doyle’ and she’d just _stopped_.

 _Mrs Doyle_. He mouthed it to himself. Saying it felt like call without a response, somehow. As though he was only hearing half the sentiment.

It had just slipped out, a reaction to hearing her call him ‘Mr Doyle’ one too many times. Or perhaps … perhaps it was because it felt _right_ to call her that. This woman who’d walked into his life (or rather, his death) not two days ago, who could pick pockets and talk her way into fine Manhattan boutiques, and who wore evening gowns as though she was never meant to wear anything else. A woman who insisted that he deserved happiness, deserved respect, deserved love.

But that was ridiculous. Frank shook himself out of his daydream. He’d killed his best friend as a child, let his first love go to her death, been a tool of the Lord and then a reckless monster hunter, before dying for a bunch of spoiled brats. There was nothing about that life that seemed deserving of better things to him. Frank Doyle deserved to be rotting in some hallowed ground miles from here. Mr Doyle didn’t deserve a Mrs Doyle, and especially not one like Sadie.

Sadie rolled over in her sleep, and the flask dropped to the ground. Frank could see the inscription, glinting in the light from the open window.

_To my Sadie love, on our anniversary._

Frank looked down at the flask and then back towards the bathroom where he’d dropped the chalk, considering. Tomorrow, she’d be back with her perfect match of a husband, and despite what she’d said to him earlier, Frank really couldn’t see why she’d need him around. On top of that, he wasn’t sure he could stand to watch her go, to disappear back into her life without him, a life in which she was infinitely happier.

Slowly, carefully, he managed to carry the chalk back, brow furrowed as he clumsily drew the sigils on the plush carpet around where the flask had fallen. The words _Sadie love_ caught the light as he finished, making his stomach churn.

Frank whispered the incantation softly, so as not to wake Sadie. He felt a tingling, pins-and-needles sensation throughout his body. He nodded to himself, and headed to the door.

“Frank,” murmured Sadie.

Frank froze. He looked back at Sadie, but she was still sound asleep. She gave a breathy sigh and repeated his name, frowning in her sleep.

Frank left her to her dreams without looking back, floating out of the Plaza and into the night.


	15. Chapter 15

Sadie slowly blinked awake in the mid-morning light. Today she at least remembered where she was - not in her own bed, not in her own apartment, not with her own Frank…

Oh, and they had had such a row last night. She’d been so frustrated with him, with all his self-deprecating comments, when she just wanted him to _see_ how worthwhile he was. She’d even _shouted_ at him, and she _never_ shouted. She’d spent such a long time with Frank after they first met, getting him to see the value in himself, making sure that he knew every day that he was the most important person in the world to her. And now it seemed she had found herself right back at the start of that again.

And on top of that, his death. He’d stopped short of telling her the full story, not that it mattered - Sadie knew the rest. She knew the rest because she was _supposed to be there_ that night.

Supposed to distract that dogcatcher-turned-monster, supposed to control them via a martini glass, supposed to dump Bobo, supposed to take Frank for a picnic in a park with a litter of ghost puppies. For all her talk about how Frank shouldn’t feel responsible for the deaths of others, she felt deeply responsible for his.

 _It was never supposed to happen that way_ , thought Sadie.

She felt furious at whatever timeline this was, whatever had caused her disappearance from the world that led to Frank being buried in a plot of land so far away from his favorite part of the city, in an area dedicated to the church that he _hated_. It was all so tremendously unfair.

Sadie poured herself some breakfast. Soon, she would fix this mess and their world would be righted again.

Frank didn’t appear to be in the main room. She gently pushed open the bathroom door, expecting to see him sulking in the empty bathtub as he had been the previous morning. He wasn’t there either.

Sadie took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. He’d probably just gone out somewhere to blow off steam after their fight. All she’d have to do would be summon him back with the -

Her train of thought went off the rails as her eyes fell on the flask, lying on the ground. Drawn around it on the carpet were small chalk sigils, the kind used to untether spirits.

“Oh,” said Sadie.

She sat down, fingers tracing the clumsily drawn sigils. She’d thought she’d managed to talk Frank out of it, but after their fight he must have changed his mind. She should have held onto the flask tighter, or put it in the safe with the money.

She looked up to the corner of the room. The neon numbers were still there, ticking down. Feeling numb, she went through the process of getting herself ready. She looked herself over - the black gown today, a match for her mood - before picking up the briefcase, her purse, and the flask and heading out.

Time for Sadie Doyle to reverse a curse.


	16. Chapter 16

The trip to the faeries’ store was uneventful, and Sadie tried not to dwell on the night before. After all, she would need all her wits about her for the task ahead. The neon numbers seemed to be appearing more frequently, the strange light pulsing as the time began to run low.

Sadie willed the streetcar to move faster. She _would_ have enough time. She was _Sadie Doyle_ , and there was nothing on this earth that could stop her from making things right.

The faeries would, in all likelihood, stand by their deal, but that still left the unknown factor of the person (or creature) with whom she was to make the trade. That the faeries vouched for them warranted _some_ assurance, but then again they were getting quite the deal out of this exchange themselves.

Sadie squared her shoulders as she entered, heading for the counter towards the back of the store. Confidence in oneself was often half the battle in these situations.

“Hello, it’s me, Sadie, from yesterday? I’m here to purchase the spell book on behalf of your interested party?”

The two faeries flitted over the dusty shelves.

“Hello Sadie!” said the faeries with the blue wings.

“Sadie, hello!” said the faerie with the green wings, “and do you have our money?”

“Why, of course, darling. I said I would, didn’t I?”

Sadie placed the briefcase on the counter and opened it. The faerie with the green wings began flicking through the money, counting to itself in a fast, high-pitched tone. The faerie with the blue wings lifted the book out from behind the glass case. The glowed with a strange light.

“Don’t worry,” said the faerie with the blue wings, “it’s perfectly safe to touch. It’s just something it does. An added feature, as it were.”

“I see,” said Sadie, gingerly picking up the book.

It felt strange under her hands, almost as though it were vibrating. The faerie with the blue wings looked up from the briefcase, having finished their count, nodding to their green-winged counterpart.

“And where is the being with which I am to trade?”

The faerie with the green wings handed her a scrap of notepaper. An address was scribbled on it in strangely metallic blue ink.

“They called earlier with their location,” said the faerie with the green wings, “it’s just a few blocks from here.”

“Thank you,” said Sadie, “good day to you both.”

The address might have only been a few blocks away, but the faeries had neglected to tell her how long it would _take_ to walk there. The neon numbers of the countdown seemed to be in every window, reminding her that she only had a few hours left. Sadie sped up, gripping the book tight as she hurried along the street.

The buildings either side of the address she’d been given looked run down and hollow, but compared to the building she was about to enter they looked positively pristine. Sadie hoped the place wouldn’t collapse on her before she could procure the counter curse.

Inside, the building looked even worse, if such a thing were possible. The windows were black with grime and mildew, the only light coming from a large hole in the level above. Sadie could see right through the two upper levels to the sky. She stepped carefully over the creaking floorboards, moving further into the house.

“Hello? Is anyone here? My name is Sadie, I’m here to make a trade with, well, _someone_. I’m unclear on that details.”

“In here,” said a high, quavering voice.

Sadie entered what had _probably_ been a small lounge room. Soot streaked up the wall from the fireplace, and two ratty couches were overturned on the decaying floorboards. Standing next to the fireplace was a tall hooded figure. Sadie couldn’t make out any of their features.

Sadie regarded them warily. “Do you have the counter curse?”

The hood nodded. “I do. Do you have the book?”

Sadie held up the book, and the hooded figure held out their hands for it. Or rather, Sadie assumed they did, the arms of the cloak fell over where their hands would be.

“Now, I’m not going to simply hand over this book without any sort of assurances that you’ll hold up your end of the deal,” said Sadie, “how do _I_ know you even _have_ the counter curse?”

“The faeries didn’t vouch for me?”

“They did, but I would still prefer to have proof with my own eyes.”

“Fine.”

The hooded figure reached into its pocket, producing a scroll. Laboriously, they unrolled it, revealing old, curled writing. It certainly _looked_ appropriately like a counter curse.

“And you’re certain that it will work?” asked Sadie.

“I was told that it would,” said the figure, “now, my book?”

The hooded figure raised their arm again. Sadie felt a little annoyed that on top of paying for the ridiculously overpriced book they were now expecting her to walk it over to them, but - the neon numbers pulsed from their position on the fireplace mantel - time was of the essence.

The hooded figure held the scroll out with one hand, and Sadie took it as she handed over the book. She eagerly unscrolled it, but as she did so it crumbled away in her hands, turning to dust and slipping through her fingers.

She looked up at the figure, shocked. “Give me back that book!”

“Not a chance,” said the figure.

Their voice had lost its strange, high-pitched tone, and was now, Sadie realised, heart sinking, far too familiar. She reached forward and pulled back the hood - it was the witch.

The witch laughed, delighted. “Oh, Mrs Doyle, you should see your face right now, it’s hilarious.”

“You! Why on earth would you have me go through all this trouble for an old book?”

“It’s _my_ book,” said the witch, clutching it to her chest, “I hadn’t counted on the world-switching curse being so … extreme.”

“Really?” said Sadie, “you didn’t think a spell that _changed the entire world_ would cause a disruption of your own personal effects?”

“Well, it’s not supposed to affect _me_ ,” said the witch, “but during the spell I must have dropped the book and those faeries got to it before I did.”

“And you couldn’t take on two faeries?”

“Well, the spell had been a lot more … draining than I thought. Any money I could have made appear wouldn’t have stayed with them very long, and it’s never a good idea to cross faeries. What I needed was someone to get the money _for_ me.”

Sadie was beginning to have a very horrible feeling about the entire situation. “So you told them about a counter curse, knowing that when I went to them they’d arrange the trade for you.”

The witch looked very pleased with herself. “Exactly.”

“But why get _me_ to run around? Surely it would have been just as easy to trick some poor fool into doing your work for you?”

“Ah, but you see this way, I got two things. I got my spellbook back _and_ I had you running around for me, wasting your time on pulling the money together instead of thinking up a counter curse of your own,” said the witch, gesturing to the neon countdown.

The numbers were very, very low. Sadie doubted whether she would have had time to get back to the faeries’ store to complain about their part in this trickery, let alone go searching the city for another counter curse.

Furious, she ripped the book from the witch’s hand and threw it across the room.

“Hey,” said the witch, brow furrowing, “you can’t -”

Sadie slapped her. The witch staggered back, tripping over the box she’d been standing on to disguise herself. Sadie quickly took out the piece of chalk from her purse, drawing sigils to trap the witch.

“There,” said Sadie, “now you are going to reverse this curse right this instant, or I will send you somewhere _extremely_ unpleasant.”

The witch laughed. “Don’t you get it? There _isn’t_ a way to reverse this curse, that’s why I picked it. Even the great Sadie Doyle can’t find a solution if it doesn’t exist.”

Sadie felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Her legs gave out from underneath her. She looked up at the pulsing timer, desperately trying to think of a way - she was _Sadie Doyle_ after all, she could - she could -

The neon number blurred as she blinked back tears. There wasn’t anything _to_ do. Awfully, unfathomably, she’d _lost_.


	17. Chapter 17

Frank hadn’t done much since he’d left the Plaza in the early hours of the morning. There wasn’t really much he _could_ do. People couldn’t see him, and in any case, he had no one to visit. He’d seen too much of the other side of a haunting to really think about it as an option - it only seemed to cause hassle. He couldn’t even _drink_.

Eventually, the sun began to rise over the buildings. He wondered what Sadie would think when she awoke to find him gone. Perhaps she would try to summon him again, or perhaps she was too hurt from their argument the night before. Not that it mattered, today was the day where she would be reunited with her perfect husband. She’d probably forget all about him.

The street was becoming crowded as people began their morning commute, and Frank floated above them. He wondered if Sadie’s husband was among them, somewhere in New York and unaware that his life was about to be changed for the better.

He considered floating by PJ’s bar to try getting a drink, but PJ tended to favour the afternoon shift and likely wouldn’t be there, besides which Frank didn’t need to hear another round of apologies from him. Frank supposed that he could have hung around somewhere, waiting for someone to spill something, but the bars were relatively empty at that time of the morning, and the people who _were_ there were guarding their drinks jealously.

And so, he floated around the streets of New York with no real destination in mind. _Absolutely none._ If he happened to be following the same path as he had yesterday - past the theatre and towards the more supernatural district - well, that was entirely coincidence. The spectral version of muscle memory.

Frank hesitated outside the faeries store for a moment before ghosting through the door. The faerie with the green wings was dusting the shelves close the the front door.

“Hello Doyle! I didn’t expect to see you ghosting around so soon.”

“Yes, well, you know,” said Frank, “I was in the neighbourhood.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of you to drop by,” said the faerie, moving higher up the shelf, “but I meant more in the way that I expected you to be sent back to where you came from after your fancy lady friend had finished her business.”

Frank remembered the look on Sadie’s face when he told her he’d been in hell, horrified and so _sad_ for him.

“No we, uh, worked out our own deal.” Frank paused, trying to keep his voice casual. “Say, has she been by yet today?”

“Yep, dropped the money and took the book a little while ago,” said the faerie, “she should be making the trade with that witch right about now. Another satisfied customer.”

“Yes, I - wait, did you say a _witch_ was involved?”

The faerie looked down at Frank. “Yeah. She asked for a lot of privacy during this deal but hey, when the money’s going to be that good I can be persuaded to not mention an occupation here or there, you know?”

During his life as a supernatural detective, Frank had often relied on his instincts. When to strike, when to try and talk his way out, and, most importantly, when a situation was about to go bad. A witch being involved wasn’t _necessarily_ a bad sign, but a witch who didn’t want Sadie to know she involved was a red flag of a very dangerous sort.

“Where was the deal going to take place?” said Frank, floating up to the faeries level.

“What?”

“The trade,” said Frank, “where was it taking place?”

“What’s got _you_ so interested?”

Frank resisted the urge to shake the faerie. “Because there is a very good chance that you have just sent Sadie into a trap!”

“Well, we don’t do refunds,” said the faerie, “so she can’t come complaining to me, asking for her money back -”

“But it _is_ bad for business,”said Frank, “who’s going to make deals with you, if word gets around that you’re letting customers walk into traps?”

“You wouldn’t,” said the faerie, regarding him coolly, “and even if you would, you couldn’t.”

“I spent my entire professional life talking to ghosts,” said Frank, “you think I didn’t learn a few tricks on how ghosts can contact the living?”

The faerie held up its hand. “Alright, alright, there’s no need to be making _threats_. I’ll go get the address, and then no one can say we didn’t do everything in our power to do right by our customer.”

The faeries flitted off and returned a moment later with a scrap of paper, holding it up so Frank could read it. It was just a few blocks away. If he hurried, he might not be too late to stop … whatever it was that he might have to stop.

Frank rushed through the door without another word. He tried not to think of all the ways an angry witch could construct a trap, or how speedily such a thing might happen. He sped through the street, not bothering to avoid people and ghosting straight through them, until he reached the address the faeries had given him.

An old, falling-down building, slouching in between two slightly newer, slightly less crumbling buildings. He could hear a voice yelling inside. _Sadie_.

An unfamiliar laugh echoed as he entered, and Frank headed towards the sound.

“- can’t find a solution if it doesn’t exist,” the witch was saying, gesturing the neon numbers behind her.

She sounded very smug for someone currently trapped via sigils. Frank expected Sadie to argue, after all, the Sadie he’d gotten to know in the past two days could certainly handle a witch. Instead Sadie looked at the numbers, going very pale. Frank didn’t blame her, there was only minutes left on the countdown now.

Sadie gave a shaky gasp, and fell to her knees. She looked up at the numbers, and Frank could see a tear trickle down her cheek and, well, that was quite enough. How _dare_ the witch waltz into Sadie’s life and separate her from someone she loved and then _mock_ her for being upset?

If Sadie wasn’t in any condition to be outraged over it, he certainly was.


	18. Chapter 18

A cool breeze blew past Sadie, towards the witch.

“You listen here you,” said Frank, “if you think you’re going to -”

“Frank?” said Sadie, from her position on the floor, “Frank is that really you?”

“Who are you talking to right now?” said the witch, brow furrowing in confusion.

Frank ignored her, floating down to be level with Sadie. “I hope you don’t mind that I came, I -”

Sadie blinked away tears as she looked at Frank. “Not at all, Mr Doyle. I’m very glad you’re here.”

Even as everything seemed to be slipping from her grasp, he’d come back to her. She reached forward, putting her hand over his heart, and he covered her hand with his own. Despite the cold feeling of his ghostly form, the gesture was so familiar, so utterly that of her Frank that she had to bite back a sob.

“Sadie?” said Frank, sounding worried.

“Oh, Mr Doyle,” said Sadie. Her voice felt raw. “Everything’s all been some awful wild goose chase, and now time’s run out and I shall never be able to put things right.”

“No, you can’t,” said the witch, sounding confused, “... is there someone else here?”

“You’ll find a way,” said Frank, “I’ll do anything I can to help you, there must be _something_.”

Sadie gave a watery smile. “I don’t know that there is. And besides, I’m sure you have other ghostly business to attend to now that you’re untethered.”

“So there’s a _ghost_ here!” said the witch.

Sadie ignored her.

“Even if that was the case,” said Frank, “I would still put helping you above anything I needed to be doing, I lov - what I meant to say is - I - uh -”

 _Oh_ , thought Sadie, emotions hitting her like a wave. She tried to suppress another sob. Frank loved her, even though everything was so different. _Frank loved her._

“Oh, Frank,” she said, her voice almost a hoarse whisper, “I love you, too.”

Frank blinked in surprise. “You do? But your husband -”

Sadie smiled, more solidly this time. She reached under the split of her dress to the flask. On the opposite side to the engraving was a little latch. She opened it and held it so that Frank could see, her hands shaking slightly.

Inside was a photograph of the two of them on their wedding day. Donna had taken it without them knowing - it was towards the end of the day, Frank, tie undone, holding their glasses, while she gestured about something. They were both smiling. Sadie didn’t think she’d stopped smiling for even a moment that day.

“That … that looks just like me,” said Frank, faintly.

“It _is_ you,” said Sadie.

“ _I’m_ your husband?” said Frank, looking from the photograph to Sadie’s face and back again.

“Yes,” said Sadie.

“I’m _your_ husband?” said Frank, a smile beginning to form.

“Well, I asked you to marry me and you said yes,” said Sadie, smiling back at him, “I could never be married to anyone besides you, Frank darling”

“I like that,” said Frank, “ _Frank darling_.”

“Yes, I’m quite fond of it myself,” said Sadie.

“Wait,” said the witch, “wait, is _Frank_ here?”

Behind the witch, Sadie could see the numbers rapidly approaching zero, but it didn’t seem so terrible now. Frank was here. No matter what changes had been made to the universe, as long as she had Frank beside her, it didn’t seem so bad.

Sadie took his cold, spectral hands in hers. “I love you.”

Frank swallowed, his face serious. “I love you, too.”

“Wait -” said the witch, trying to push her way out of the sigils, “wait, don’t -”

She leant forward and Frank, as he had done a thousand times before in another world, met her half-way.

As their lips touched, the world went white.


	19. Chapter 19

Sadie closed her eyes tight against the glare. A high-pitched noise overwhelmed the other sounds around her, before fading away. The light slowly faded, and Sadie opened her eyes, blinking as she took in the sights around her.

The penthouse suite at the Plaza hotel. Their apartment. _Home_.

“Frank?” Sadie called, voice quavering.

The apartment seemed so _quiet_. If Frank wasn’t here - if the witch had changed things somehow -

“Sorry love,” said Frank, coming out of the bedroom, flask in hand, “the blasted thing fell underneath the bed, although I’ve no idea how it - Sadie, are you alright?”

Sadie put a hand over her mouth, feeling tears roll down her cheeks. There in front of her was her Frank, so very, wonderfully alive. She didn’t think she’d ever been so happy to see someone in her life, sobs of relief shaking her body.

Frank put down the flask, coming over to her and rubbing his hands up and down her shoulders, his face full of concern.

“Sadie love, whatever’s the matter? Surely I wasn’t gone that long.”

Sadie found she didn’t properly have the words. Instead she pulled him close to her, resting her cheek on the top of his head. Frank rubbed a soothing hand up and down her back, letting her tears run their course.

Eventually, Sadie pulled back, wiping at her eyes. Frank produced a handkerchief, looking at her with concern as she delicately blew her nose. He led her to a nearby liquor cabinet, holding her hand as he poured them both glasses.

“This should help a little with whatever’s wrong,” said Frank, handing her a glass.

He clinked his glass against her’s and Sadie almost started crying all over again.

“Seeing you helps the most, Frank darling,” said Sadie, “It’s rather a long story, perhaps we should sit down?”

Sadie curled in his lap, her head resting on his chest as she went over the whole story of her past two days, stopping periodically to kiss him. It helped to reassure her that Frank was still there, that this wasn't some dream that she'd wake up from alone in a lesser plaza hotel room. She could feel his steady heartbeat under her fingers.

She tried to skim over the mentions of Frank being a ghost, but of course it was difficult not to mention it - how she hadn’t been able to touch him, how she’d attached him to the flask her Frank had given her. Frank, sensing her distress, threaded their fingers together, squeezing her hand gently. No matter what had happened in the past two days, he was right there beside her now, warm and whole.

The split in her dress allowed her to have her legs up, her knees resting to the side against the couch, letting the skirt of her dress pool around her thighs. Frank ran a hand up and down her legs absentmindedly as she spoke - from her knee to her foot of course, he was being perfectly gentlemanly about it.

As Sadie reached the end of her tale - the argument with the witch, Frank's ghostly self pledging himself to her - she lost the thread of the story a little, losing herself in the heat of kissing him.

Frank's touch became decidedly less gentlemanly, but no less welcome.

"Frank," said Sadie, breathless, "take me to bed?"

Frank nodded. Sadie wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, and he carried her bridal style towards their bedroom. Sadie kept herself steady with one hand, using her other to undo his tie and make a start on his shirt buttons, all the while kissing him, kissing him, kissing him.

She revelled in the small breathy noises Frank made, as though coming up for air was an annoyance which could only be soothed by her kiss. Sadie was more than happy to oblige. She raked her nails lightly through the short hairs at the base of his neck and Frank stumbled through the doorway.

“Sorry, love.”

She could feel the pounding of his heart under her hand. Warm and solid and alive, and looking at her in the way he always did, as if she were the sun and the moon and the reason he drew breath. She remembered how his  ghost had looked at her, guarded, as if he had been trying to put something between them in addition to the separation of the spiritual plane.

To show her forgiveness, she kissed him again, deeper and hotter than before.

She kept kissing him, even as he laid her down on their bed, gently, like he was afraid she might shatter. This was not always the case (and it was often upon Sadie’s request that it was not), but Sadie didn't want any games tonight.

She pulled lightly at the front of Frank's shirt to get him to follow her. It was still fastened by the bottom buttons she hadn’t been able to reach on their way to the bedroom, but it was open far enough for her to get her hands on his skin. Frank shivered.

He slowly unzipped her dress, running a finger over the exposed skin. It felt as though he was drawing a line of fire along her side. Sadie pulled it up and off, throwing it over the other side of the bed.

Frank carefully unclipped the flask from her thigh, gently placing on the bedside table. Sadie reached out a hand, running her finger over the engraving before taking his hand in hers. She brought his hand to her mouth, kissing the knuckles.

“I’m glad I had it on me when I was - when I left,” said Sadie, “It was like carrying around a memory.”

“A good one, I hope,” said Frank.

“Oh, yes,” said Sadie, leaning up to kiss him, “one of the best.”

Frank moved down her body, his touch soft, almost reverent, starting at her neck with light butterfly kisses, and lingering longer as he moved lower.Sadie sighed, running a hand through his hair. It felt as though he were cataloging every part of her, making a serious study of her breasts, his hands skimming down her sides.

"Wait," said Sadie.

Frank stopped, looking up at her from where he had been making his way across her stomach.

"I ... I want you up here," said Sadie, "I want to be able to see your face." She cupped his cheek, and Frank leant into her palm. "I missed it so."

"Whatever you want, Sadie love," said Frank.

Sadie sighed at his term of endearment for her. One would think it such a small thing, but she had _missed_ it.

Frank retraced his steps, as it were, until their faces were level once again. Sadie kissed him, her hands making short work of Frank's remaining shirt buttons. Frank moaned softly into her mouth as her nails raked the bare skin of his chest.

Not to be outdone, his hands followed the path his mouth had taken, trailing over her body and leaving Sadie trembling. Frank ran a finger along the edge of her panties.

"May I?" He asked, his voice rough.

This time it was Sadie who could only nod in reply, her eyes fluttering shut as his fingers teased at her through the fabric.

Sadie bit her lip, resisting the urge to arch up into Frank's hand, letting the tension in her body build. She could feel the length of him pressed against her side, where he was ignoring his own desires in favour of pleasuring her.

Frank hooked his finger, pulling her panties out of the way and pushing one finger slowly inside of her. Now Sadie did not resist to urge to arch up, needing more. He crooked the finger, kissing her, swallowing her moans and adding a second finger, sliding lazily in and out of her before adding a third.

Sadie babbled in between gasps, telling him how much she had missed him, how awful she had felt to be without him, how no ghost or shade could ever compare to having him here beside her, how she loved him so much, _so much_ , did he know?

"I know, love," said Frank, murmuring in her ear.

The feeling of his breath made her grab at the sheet, twisting it as she tried to find something to ground herself with. Frank loosened her grip on the sheets with a free hand, tangling their fingers together instead. She gripped his hand tight.

“I’m here, love,” he whispered, “I’m right here. I’ll always be right here beside you, I love you.”

The tone of his voice sent her over the edge, clenching around his fingers as he murmured endearments into her ear. Frank held her close as she came, his hands trailing over her as she came back to herself.

Sadie curled into his side, tangling their legs together and smiling against the skin of his shoulder. Frank had an arm tucked underneath her, holding her close, his fingers brushing against her side. She looked up, cupping the side of his face. Frank kissed her palm.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I’d had to stay in that other world,” said Sadie.

“You would still have had me,” said Frank, “Well, a version of me at least.”

“It wasn’t the same,” said Sadie, “I would have missed _you_ terribly.”

In response, he reached up, taking her hand in his and slotting their fingers together and kissing the back of her hand.

 _I am so very glad to be home_ , thought Sadie, as she fell asleep in Frank’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LAST CHAPTER! Thanks again to everyone who’s been so lovely about this fic - everyone who said nice things in their tags, sent messages, or tweeted at us about it, you’re all wonderful and it means so much to both of us. 
> 
> Also thanks again, always and forever, to our amazing, wonderful beta Sophie. Seriously, I don’t know how she managed to fit in betaing this thing while doing everything else she does.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: madelinestarr // mariusperkins (on twitter and tumblr)


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